5YW  J-^MW 


|';l^f*o    S-i  t^-7 


•^X   AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

FEMALE   SLAVE 


KEDFIELD 

34  BEEKMAN  STEEET,  NEW  YORK 
1857 


\ 


K 


Entered,  aocording  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S5G,  by 

J.    S.    REDFIELD, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


E.  O.  JENKINS, 

printer   an  it    Uterrotgjm", 

No.  26  Frankfokt  Sxkeet. 


TO   ALL   PERSONS 
INTERESTED    IN    THE    CAUSE    OF    FREEDOM, 

&Yxb    lit  tit    §ook 

is 

RESPECTFULLY  AND  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED, 

BY 

THE    AUTHOE, 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/autobiographyoffbrow 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGK 

The  Old  Kentucky  Farm — My  Parentage  and  Early  Training — Death  of  the  Master — 
The  Sale-day — New  Master  and  New  Home,     ...  ...      9 

CHAPTER  II. 

A  View  of  the  New  Home,       .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .19 

CHAPTER    III. 

The  Yankee  School-Mistress — Her  Philosophy — The  American  Abolitionists,      .        .    29 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Conversation  with  Miss  Bradly — A  Light  Breaks  through  the  Darkness,        .       .       .82 

CHAPTER  V. 

A  Fashionable  Tea-Table — Table-Talk — Aunt    Polly's  Experience — The    Overseer's 
Authority — The  Whipping-Post — Transfiguring  Power  of  Divine  Faith,    .  .    87 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Restored  Consciousness — Aunt  Polly's  Account  of  my  Miraculous  Return  to  Life — 
The  Master's  Affray  with  the  Overseer,  .  .  .  .  .  .51 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Amy's  Narrative,  and  her  Philosophy  of  a  Future  State,  .  .  .  .  .63 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Talk  at  the  Farm-House— Threats— The  New  Beau— Lindy,         .  .  .  .65 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Lindy's  Boldness — A  Suspicion — The  Master's  Accountability — The  Young  Reformer 
—Words  of  Hope— The  Cultivated  Mulatto— The  Dawn  of  Ambition,         .  .    76 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEE  X. 

PAGE 

The  Conversation,  in  which  Fear  and  Suspicion  are  Aroused— The  Young  Master,       .    84 

CHAPTER  XL 

The  Flight— Toung  Master's  Apprehensions— His  Conversation— Amy— Edifying  Talk 
among  Ladies,  ..........    93 

CHAPTEE  XII. 

Mr.  Peterkin's  Rage — Its  Escape — Chat  at  the  Breakfast-Table — Change  of  Views — 

Power  of  the  Flesh-pots,  ........    101 

CHAPTEE  XIII. 

Recollections — Consoling  Influence  of  Sympathy — Amy's  Doctrine  of  the  Soul — Talk 

at  the  Spring,  ..........    107 

CHAPTEE  XIV. 

The  Prattlings  of  Insanity — Old  Wounds  Reopen — The  "Walk  to  the  Doctor's — Influ- 
ence of  Nature,       .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .    116 

CHAPTEE  XV. 

Quietude  of  tho  Woods — A  Glimpse  of  the  Stranger — Mrs.  Mandy's  Words  of  Cruel 

Irony — Sad  Reflections,    .........    121 

CHAPTEE  XVI. 

A  Reflection — American  Abolitionists — Disaifection  in  Kentucky — The  Young  Master 

— His  Remonstrance,        .  .  .  .  .  .  .  ;    127 

CHAPTEE  XVII. 

The  Return  of  the  Hunters,  flushed  with  Success — Mr.  Peterkin's  Vagary,       .  .    186 

CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

The  Essay  of  Wit— Young  Abolitionist — His  Influence— A  Night  at  the  Door  of  the 

"Lock-Up,"  .  . 147 

CHAPTEE  XIX. 

Sympathy  casteth  out  Fear — Consequence  of  the  Night's  Watch— Troubled  Reflec- 
tions, .........  .    161 

CHAPTEE  XX. 

The  Trader— A  Terrible  Fright— Power  of  Prayer— Grief  of  the  Helpless,      .  .    170 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

PAGE 

Touching  Farewell  full  of  Pathos— The  Parting— My  Grief,        .  .  .  .    1S8 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

A  Conversation — Hope  Blossoms  Out,  but  Charlestown  is  full  of  Excitability,  .  .    191 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  Supper — Its  Consequences — Loss  of  Silver — A  Lonely  Night — Amy,  .  .    201 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  Punishment — Cruelty — Its  Fatal  Consequence— Death,       .  ,  .  211 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Conversation  of  the  Father  and  Son — The  Discovery;  its  Consequences — Death  of  the 
Young  and  Beautiful,       .........    221 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  Funeral — Miss  Bradly's  Departure — The  Dispute — Spirit  Qucsuuas,  .  .    282 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 
The  Awful  Confession  of  the  Master— Death— its  Cold  Solemnity,  .  .  .   243 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  Bridal — Its  Ceremonies — A  Trip,  and  a  Change  of  jHomes — The  Magnoua — A 

Stranger, 251 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Argument,  ...........    259 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

The  Misdemeanor — The  Punishment — Its  Consequence — Fright,  .  .  .    279 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

The  Day  of  Trial — Anxiety — The  Volunteer  Counsel— Verdict  of  the  Jury,      .  .    293 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Execitlon  of  the  Sentence — A  Change — Hope,       ......    303 

CHAPTER  XXXHI. 

Beld— Life  as  a  Slave — Pen — Charles'  Story— Uncle  Peter's  Troubles — A  Star  Peeping 

Forth  from  the  Cloud,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .    314 


VT11  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

PAGE 

Scene  in  the  Pen — Starting  "Down  the  Eiver' — Uncle  Peter's  Trial — My  Kescue,      .    333 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

The  New  Home — A  Pleasant  Family  Group— Quiet  Love-Meetings,      .  .  .    342 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  New  Associates— Depraved  Views — Elsy's  Mistake — Departure  of  the  Young 

Ladies— Loneliness,  .*.......    348 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

The  New  Mistress — Her  Kindness  of  Disposition — A  Pretty  Home — And  Love-Inter- 
views in  the  Summer  Days,        ........    855 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

An  Awful  Revelation — More  Clouds  to  Darken  the  Sun  of  Life — Sickness  and  blessed 

Insensibility,  *.........    866 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Gradual  Eeturn  of  Happy  Spirits — Brighter  Prospects— An  Old  Acquaintance,  .    374 

CHAPTER  XL. 

The  Crisis  of  Existence — A  Dreadful  Page  in  Life,  .....    881 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

A  Eevelation — Death  the  Peaceful  Angel— Calmness,       .....    891 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Conclusion,         .  .....  .    898 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


FEMA.LE     SL^lVE 


CHAPTEE    I. 

THE  OLD  KENTUCKY  FARM — MY  PARENTAGE  AND  EARLY  TRAIN- 
ING— DEATH  OF  THE  MASTER — THE  SALE-DAY — NEW  MASTER 
AND  NEW  HOME. 

I  was  born  in  one  of  the  southern  counties  of  Kentucky. 
My  earliest  recollections  are  of  a  large,  old-fashioned  farm-house, 
built  of  hewn  rock,  in  which  my  old  master,  Mr.  Nelson,  and 
his  family,  consisting  of  a  widowed  sister,  two  daughters  and 
two  sons,  resided.  I  have  but  an  indistinct  remembrance  of 
my  old  master.  At  times,  a  shadow  of  an  idea,  like  the  reflec- 
tion of  a  kind  dream,  comes  over  my  mind,  and,  then,  I  conjure 
him  up  as  a  large,  venerable-looking  man,  with  scanty,  gray  locks 
floating  carelessly  over  an  amplitude  of  forehead;  a  wide,  hard- 
featured  face,  with  yet  a  kindly  glow  of  honest  sentiment ; 
Droad,  strong  teeth,  much  discolored  by  the  continued  use  of 
tobacco. 

I  well  remember  that,  as  a  token  of  his  good-will,  he  always 
presented  us  (the  slave-children)  with  a  slice  of  buttered  bread, 
when  we  had  finished  our  daily  task.  I  have  also  a  faint 
reminiscence  of  his  old  hickory  cane  being  shaken  over  my  head 
two  or  three  times,  and  the  promise  (which  remained,  until  his 
death,  unfulfilled)  of  a  good  "  thrasJiing"  at  some  future  period. 

My  mother  was  a  very  bright  mulatto  woman,  and  my  father, 

[9] 


10  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

I  suppose,  was  a  white  man,  though  I  know  nothing  of  him ; 
for,  with  the  most  unpaternal  feeling,  he  deserted  me.  A 
consequence  of  this  amalgamation  was  my  very  fair  and  beauti- 
ful .complexion.  My  skin  was  no  perceptible  shade  darker  than 
that  of  my  young  mistresses.  My  eyes  were  large  and  dark,  while 
a  profusion  of  nut-brown  hair,  straight  and  soft  as  the  whitest 
lady's  in  the  land,  fell  in  showery  redundance  over  my  neck  and 
shoulders.  I  was  often  mistaken  for  a  white  child  ;  and  in  my 
rambles  through  the  woods,  many  caresses  have  I  received  from 
wayside  travellers ;  and  the  exclamation,  "  What  a  beautiful 
child!"  was  quite  common.  Owing  to  this  personal  beauty  I 
was  a  great  pet  with  my  master's  sister,  Mrs.  Woodbriclge,  who, 
I  believe  I  have  stated,  was  a  widow,  and  childless  ;  so  upon 
me  she  lavished  all  the  fondness  of  a  warm  and  loving  heart. 

My  mother,  Keziah  the  cook,  commonly  called  Aunt  Kaisy, 
was  possessed  of  an  indomitable  ambition,  and  had,  by  the 
hardest  means,  endeavored  to  acquire  the  rudiments  of  an  edu- 
cation ;  but  all  that  she  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  was  a 
knowledge  of  the  alphabet,  and  orthography  in  two  syllables. 
Being  very  imitative,  she  eschewed  the  ordinary  negroes'  pronun- 
ciation, and  adopted  the  mode  of  speech  used  by  the  higher  classes 
of  whites.  She  was  very  much  delighted  when  Mrs.  Woodbriclge 
or  Miss  Betsy  (as  we  called  her)  began  to  instruct  me  in  the 
elements  of  the  English  language.  I  inherited  my  mother's 
thirst  for  knowledge ;  and,  by  intense  study,  did  all  I  could  to 
spare  Miss  Betsy  the  usual  drudgery  of  a  teacher.  The  aptitude 
that  I  displayed,  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that,  in  three 
months  from  the  day  she  began  teaching  me  the  alphabet,  I  was 
reading,  with  some  degree  of  fluency,  in  the  "  First  Reader." 
I  have  often  heard  her  relate  this  as  quite  a  literary  and  educa- 
tional marvel. 

There  were  so  many  slaves  upon  the  farm,  particularly  young 
ones,  that  I  was  regarded  as  a  supernumerary ;   consequently,      O ! 
spared  from  nearly  all  the  work.     I  sat  in  Miss  Betsy's  room,       q£ 
with  book  in  hand,  little  heeding  anything  else  ;  and,  if  ever  I 
manifested  the  least  indolence,  my  mother,  with  her  wild  ambi- 


DEATH    OF    THE    MASTER.  11 

tion,  was  sure  to  rally  rne,  and  even  offer  the  tempting  bribe  of 
cakes  and  apples. 

I  have  frequently  beard  rny  old  master  say,  "Betsy,  you 
will  spoil  tbat  girl,  teaching  her  so  much."  "  She  is  too  pretty 
for  a  slave,"  was  her  invariable  reply. 

Thus  smoothly  passed  the  early  part  of  my  life,  until  an  event 
occurred  which  was  the  cause  of  a  change  in  my  whole  fate. 
My  old  master  became  suddenly  and  dangerously  ill.  My  les- 
sons were  suspended,  for  Miss  Betsy's  services  were  required  in 
the  sick  chamber.  I  used  to  slyly  steal  to  the  open  door  of  his 
room,  and  peep  in,  with  wonder,  at  the  sombre  group  collected 
there.  I  recollect  seeing  my  young  masters  and  mistresses 
weeping  round  a  curtained  bed.  Then  there  came  a  time  when 
loud  screams  and  frightful  lamentations  issued  thence.  There 
were  shrieks  that  struck  upon  my  ear  with  a  strange  thrill  ; 
shrieks  that  seemed  to  rend  "souls  and  break  heart-strings.  My 
young  mistresses,  fair,  slender  girls,  fell  prostrate  upon  the  floor ; 
and  my  masters,  noble,  manly  men,  bent  over  the  bowed  forms 
of  their  sisters,  whispering  words  which  I  did  not  hear,  but 
which,  my  mature  experience  tells  me,  must  have  been  of  love 
and  comfort. 

There  came,  then,  a  long,  narrow,  black  box,  thickly  embossed 
with  shining  brass  tacks,  in  which  my  old  master  was  carefully 
laid,  with  his  pale,  brawny  hands  crossed  upon  his  wide  chest. 
I  remember  that,  one  by  one,  the  slaves  were  called  in  to  take 
a  last  look  of  him  who  had  been,  to  them,  a  kind  master.  They 
all  came  out  with  their  cotton  handkerchiefs  pressed  to  their 
eyes.  I  went  in,  with  five  other  colored  children,  to  take  my 
look.  That  wan,  ghastly  face,  those  sunken  eyes  and  pinched 
features,  with  the  white  winding  sheet,  and  the  dismal  coffin, 
impressed  me  with  a  new  and  wild  terror ;  and,  for  weeks  after, 
this  "vision  of  death"  haunted  my  mind  fearfully. 

But  I  soon  after  resumed  my  studies  under  Miss  Betsy's 
tuition.  Having  little  work  to  do,  and  seldom  seeing  my  young 
mistresses,  I  grew  up  in  the  same  house,  scarcely  knowing  them. 
I  was  technically  termed  in  the  family,  "  the  child,"  as  I  was 


12  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

not  black ;  and,  being  a  slave,  my  masters  and  mistresses  would 
not  admit  that  I  was  wbite.  So  I  reached  the  age  of  ten,  still 
called  "  a  child,"  and  actually  one  in  all  life's  experiences,  though 
pretty  well  advanced  in  education.  I  had  a  very  good  knowl- 
edge of  the  rudiments,  had  bestowed  some  attention  upon  Gram- 
mar, and  eagerly  read  every  book  that  fell  in  my  way.  Love 
of  study  taught  me  seclusive  habits  ;  I  read  long  and  late  ;  and 
the  desire  of  a  finished  education  became  the  passion  of  my  life. 
Alas  !  these  days  were  but  a  poor  preparation  for  the  life  that 
was  to  come  after  ! 

Miss  Betsy,  though  a  warm-hearted  woman,  was  a  violent 
advocate  of  slavery.  I  have  since  been  puzzled  how  to  recon- 
cile this  with  her  otherwise  Christian  character ;  and,  though 
she  professed  to  love  me  dearly,  and  had  bestowed  so  much  at- 
tention upon  the  cultivation  of  my  mind,  and  expressed  it  as 
her  opinion  that  I  was  too  pretty  and  white  to  be  a  slave,  yet, 
if  any  one  had  spoken  of  giving  me  freedom,  she  would  have 
condemned  it  as  domestic  heresy.  If  I  had  belonged  to  her,  I 
doubt  not  but  my  life  would  have  been  a  happy  one.  But,  alas! 
a  different  lot  was  assigned  me ! 

About  two  years  and  six  months  after  my  old  master's  death, 
a  division  was  made  of  the  property.  This  involved  a  sale  of 
everything,  even  the  household  furniture.  There  were,  I  be- 
lieve, heavy  debts  hanging  over  the  estate.  These  must  be  met, 
and  the  residue  divided  among  the  heirs. 

"When  it  was  made  known  in  the  kitchen  that  a  sale  was  to 
be  made,  the  slaves  were  panic-stricken.  Loud  cries  and  lamen- 
tations arose,  and  my  young  mistresses  came  often  to  the  kitchen 
to  comfort  us. 

One  of  these  young  ladies,  Miss  Margaret,  a  tall,  nobly -formed 
girl,  with  big  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair,  frequently  came  and 
sat  with  us,  trying,  in  the  most  persuasive  tones,  to  reconcile 
the  old  ones  to  their  destiny.  Often  did  I  see  the  large  tears 
roll  down  her  fair  cheeks,  and  her  red  lip  quiver.  These  indi- 
cations of  sympathy,  coming  from  such  a  lovely  being,  cheered 
many  an  hour  of  after-captivity. 


SALE-DAY.  13 

But  the  "sale-day"  came  at  last ;  I  have  a  confused  idea  of 
it.  The  ladies  left  the  day  hefore.  Miss  Betsy  took  an  affec- 
tionate leave  of  me  ;  ah,  I  did  not  then  know  that  it  was  a 
final  one. 

The  servants  were  all  sold,  as  I  heard  one  man  say,  at  very 
high  rates,  though  not  under  the  auctioneer's  hammer.  To  that 
my  young  masters  were  opposed. 

A  tall,  hard-looking  man  came  up  to  me,  very  roughly  seized 
my  arm,  bade  me  open  my  mouth ;  examined  my  teeth ;  felt  of 
my  limbs ;  made  me  run  a  few  yards ;  ordered  me  to  jump  ; 
and,  being  well  satisfied  with  my  activity,  said  to  Master  Ed- 
ward, "  I  will  take  her."  Little  comprehending  the  full  meaning 
of  that  brief  sentence,  I  rejoined  the  group  of  children  from 
which  I  had  been  summoned.  After  awhile,  my  mother  came 
up  to  me,  holding  a  wallet  in  her  hand.  The  tear-drops  stood 
on  her  cheeks,  and  her  whole  frame  was  distorted  with  pain. 
She  walked  toward  me  a  few  steps,  then  stopped,  and  suddenly 
shaking  her  head,  exclaimed,  "No,  no,  I  can't  do  it,  I  can't  do 
it."  I  was  amazed  at  her  grief,  but  an  indefinable  fear  kept  me 
from  rushing  to  her. 

"  Here,  Kitty,"  she  said  to  an  old  negro  woman,  who  stood 
near,  "  you  break  it  to  her.  I  can't  do  it.  No,  it  will  drive  me 
mad.  Oh,  heaven  !  that  I  was  ever  born  to  see  this  day." 
Then  rocking  her  body  back  and  forward  in  a  transport  of  agony, 
she  gave  full  vent  to  her  feelings  in  a  long,  loud,  piteous  wail. 
Oh,  God  !  that  cry  of  grief,  that  knell  of  a  breaking  heart,  rang 
in  my  ears  for  many  long  and  painful  days.  At  length  Aunt 
Kitty  approached  me,  and,  laying  her  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
kindly  said  : 

"  Alas,  poor  chile,  you  mus'  place  your  trus'  in  the  good  God 
above,  you  mus'  look  to  Him  for  help  ;  you  are  gwine  to  leave 
your  mother  now.  You  are  to  have  a  new  home,  a  new  master, 
and  I  hope  new  friends.  May  the  Lord  be  with  you."  So  say- 
ing, she  broke  suddenly  away  from  me  ;  but  I  saw  that  her 
wrinkled  face  was  wet  with  tears. 

With  perhaps  an  idle,  listless  air,  I  received  this  astounding 


14  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

news ;  but  a  whirlwind  was  gathering  in  my  breast.  What 
could  she  mean  by  new  friends  and  a  new  home  ?  Surely  I 
was  to  take  my  mother  with  me  !  No  mortal  power  would  dare 
to  sever  us.  Why,  I  remember  that  when  master  sold  the  gray 
mare,  the  colt  went  also.  Who  could,  who  would,  who  dared, 
separate  the  parent  from  her  offspring  1  Alas !  I  had  yet  to 
learn  that  the  white  man  dared  do  all  that  his  avarice  might 
suggest  ;  and  there  was  no  human  tribunal  where  the  outcast 
African  could  pray  for  "  right  !"  Ah,  when  I  now  think  of  my 
poor  mother's  form,  as  it  swayed  like  a  willow  in  the  tempest 
of  grief;  when  I  remember  her  bitter  cries,  and  see  her  arms 
thrown  franticly  toward  me,  and  hear  her  earnest — oh,  how 
earnest — prayer  for  death  or  madness,  then  I  wonder  where  were 
Heaven's  thunderbolts ;  but  retributive  Justice  will  come  sooner 
or  later,  and  He  who  remembers  mercy  now  will  not  forget 
justice  then. 

"  Come  along,  gal,  come  along,  gather  up  your  duds,  and 
come  with  me,"  said  a  harsh  voice  ;  and,  looking  up  from  my 
bewildered  reverie,  I  beheld  the  man  who  had  so  carefully  ex- 
amined me.  I  was  too  much  startled  to  fully  understand  the 
words,  and  stood  vacantly  gazing  at  him.  This  strange  manner 
he  construed  into  disrespect ;  and,  raising  his  riding-whip, 
he  brought  it  down  with  considerable  force  upon  my  back.  It 
was  the  first  lash  I  had  ever  given  to  me  in  anger.  I  smarted 
beneath  the  stripe,  and  a  cry  of  pain  broke  from  my  lips. 
Mother  sprang  to  me,  and  clasping  my  quivering  form  in  her 
arms,  cried  out  to  my  young  master,  "  Oh,  Master  Eddy,  have 
mercy  on  me,  on  my  child.  I  have  served  you  faithfully,  1 
nursed  you,  I  grew  up  with  your  poor  mother,  who  now  sleeps 
in  the  cold  ground,  I  beg  you  now  to  save  viy  child"  and  she 
sank  down  at  his  feet,  whilst  her  tears  fell  fast. 

Then  my  poor  old  grandfather,  who  was  called  the  patriarch 
slave,  being  the  eldest  one  of  the  race  in  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood, joined  us.  His  gray  head,  wrinkled  face,  and  bent  form, 
told  of  many  a  year  of  hard  servitude. 

"  What  is  it,  Massa  Ed,   what  is  it  Kaisy  be  takin'  on  so 


THE   NEW   MASTER.  15 

'bout  ?  you  haint  driv  the  chile  off?  No — no  !  young  massa 
only  playin'  trick  now  ;  come  Kais'  don't  be  makin'  fool  of  your- 
sef,  }Toung  massa  not  gwine  to  separate  you  and  the  chile." 

Tbese  words  seemed  to  reanimate  my  mother,  and  she  looked 
up  at  Master  Edward  with  a  grateful  expression  of  face,  whilst 
she  clasped  her  arms  tightly  around  his  knees,  exclaiming,  "  Oh, 
bless  you,  young  master,  bless  you  forever,  and  forgive  poor 
Kaisy  for  distrusting  you,  but  Pompey  told  me  the  child  was 
sold  away  from  me,  and  that  gemman  struck  her ;"  and  here 
again  she  sobbed,  and  caught  hold  of  me  convulsively,  as  if  she 
feared  I  might  be  taken. 

I  looked  at  my  young  master's  face,  and  the  ghastly  white- 
ness which  overspread  it,  the  tearful  glister  of  his  eye,  and  the 
strange  tremor  of  his  figure,  struck  me  with  fright.  1  knew  my 
doom.  Young  as  1  was,  my  first  dread  was  for  my  mother ;  I 
forgot  my  own  perilous  situation,  and  mourned  alone  for  her. 
I  would  have  given  worlds  could  insensibility  have  been  grant- 
ed her. 

"  I've  got  no  time  to  be  foolin'  longer  with  these  niggers, 
come  'long,  gal.  Ann,  I  believe,  you  tole  me  was  her  name," 
he  said,  as  he  turned  to  Master  Edward.  Another  wild  shriek 
from  my  mother,  a  deep  sigh  from  grandpap,  and  I  looked  at 
master  Ed,  who  was  striking  his  forehead  vehemently,  and  the 
tears  were  trickling  down  his  cheeks. 

'*  Here,  Mr.  Peterkin,  here  !"  exclaimed  Master  Edward,  "  here 
is  your  bill  of  sale  ;  I  will  refund  your  money ;  release  me  from 
my  contract." 

Peterkin  cast  on  him  one  contemptuous  look,  and  with  a 
low,  chuckling  laugh,  replied,  "  No  ;  you  must  stand  to  your 
bargain.  I  want  that  gal ;  she  is  likely,  and  it  will  do  me  good 
to  thrash  the  devil  out  of  her ;"  turning  to  me  he  added,  "  quit 
your  snuffling  and  snubbing,  or  I'll  give  you  something  to  cry 
'bout ;"  and,  roughly  catching  me  by  the  arm,  he  hurried  me 
off,  despite  the  entreaty  of  Master  Ed,  the  cries  of  mother,  and 
the  feeble  supplication  of  my  grandfather.  I  dared  to  cast  one 
look   behind,  and  beheld  my  mother   wallowing  in   the  dust, 


16  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

whilst  her  frantic  cries  of  "  save  my  child,  save  my  child !"  rang 
with  fearful  agony  in  my  ears.  Master  Ed  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  and  old  grandfather  reverently  raised  his  to 
Heaven,  as  if  heseeching  mercy.  The  sight  of  this  anguish- 
stricken  group  filled  me  with  a  new  sense  of  horror,  and  forget- 
ful of  the  presence  of  Peterkin,  I  burst  into  tears :  but  I  was 
quickly  recalled  by  a  fierce  and  stinging  blow  from  his  stout 
riding-whip. 

"  See  here,  nigger  (this  man,  raised  among  negroes,  used 
their  dialect),  if  you  dar'  to  give  another  whimper,  I'll  beat  the 
very  life  out  'en  yer."  This  terrific  threat  seemed  to  scare 
away  every  thought  of  precaution  ;  and,  by  a  sudden  and  agile 
bound,  I  broke  loose  from  him  and  darted  off  to  the  sad  group, 
from  which  I  had  been  so  ruthlessly  torn,  and,  sinking  down 
before  Master  Ed,  I  cried  out  in  a  wild,  despairing  tone,  "  Save 
me,  good  master,  save  me — kill  me,  or  hide  me  from  that  awful 
man,  he'll  kill  me  ;"  and,  seizing  hold  of  the  skirt  of  his  coat, 
I  covered  my  face  with  it  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  Peterkin, 
whose  red  eye-balls  were  glaring  with  fury  upon  me.  Oath 
after  oath  escaped  his  lips.  Mother  saw  him  rapidly  approach- 
ing to  recapture  me,  and,  with  the  noble,  maternal  instinct  of 
self-sacrifice,  sprang  forward  only  to  receive  the  heavy  blow  of 
his  uplifted  whip.  She  reeled,  tottered  and  sank  stunned  upon 
the  ground. 

"  Thar,  take  that,  you  yaller  hussy,  and  cuss  yer  nigger  hide 
for  daring  to  raise  this  rumpus  here,"  he  said,  as  he  rapidly 
strode  past  her. 

"  Gently,  Mr.  Peterkin,"  exclaimed  Master  Edward,  "  let  me 
speak  to  her  ;  a  little  encouragement  is  better  than  force." 

"  This  is  my  encouragement  for  them,"  and  he  shook  his 
whip. 

Unheeding  him,  Master  Edward  turned  to  me,  saying,  "  Ann, 
come  now,  be  a  good  girl,  go  with  this  gentleman,  and  be  an 
obedient  girl ;  he  will  give  you  a  kind,  nice  home ;  sometimes 
he  will  let  you  come  to  see  your  mother.  Here  is  some  money 
for  you  to  buy  a  pretty  head -handkerchief;  now  go  with  him." 


THE    POWER    OF    KINDNESS.  11 

These  kind  words  and  encouraging  tones,  brought  a  fresh  gush 
of  tears  to  my  eyes.  Taking  the  half-dollar  which  he  offered 
me,  and  reverently  kissing  the  skirt  of  his  coat,  I  rejoined 
Peterkin  ;  one  look  at  his  cold,  harsh  face,  chilled  my  resolu- 
tion ;  yet  I  had  resolved  to  go  without  another  word  of  com- 
plaint. I  could  not  suppress  a  groan  when  I  passed  the  spot 
where  my  mother  lay  still  insensible  from  the  effects  of  the  blow 

One  by  one  the  servants,  old  and  young,  gave  me  a  hearty 
shake  of  the  hand  as  I  passed  the  place  where  they  were  stand- 
ing in  a  row  for  the  inspection  of  buyers. 

I  had  nerved  myself,  and  now  that  the  parting  from  mother 
was  over,  I  felt  that  the  bitterness  of  death  was  past,  and  I 
could  meet  anything.  Nothing  now  could  be  a  trial,  yet  I  was 
touched  when  the  servants  offered  me  little  mementoes  and 
keepsakes.  One  gave  a  yard  of  ribbon,  another  a  half-paper 
of  pins,  a  third  presented  a  painted  cotton  head-tie  ;  others 
gave  me  ginger-cakes,  candies,  or  small  coins.  Out  of  their 
little  they  gave  abundantly,  and,  small  as  were  the  bestowments 
I  well  knew  that  they  had  made  sacrifices  to  give  even  so  much. 
3  was  too  deeply  affected  to  make  any  other  acknowledgment 
than  a  nod  of  the  head  ;  for  a  choking  thickness  was  gathering 
in  my  throat,  and  a  blinding  mist  obscured  my  sight.  I  did 
not  see  my  young  mistresses,  for  they  had  left  the  house,  de- 
claring they  could  not  bear  to  witness  a  spectacle  so  revolting 
to  their  feelings. 

Upon  reaching  the  gate  I  observed  a  red-painted  wagon, 
with  an  awning  of  domestic  cotton.  Standing  near  it,  and  hold- 
ing the  horses,  was  an  old,  worn,  scarred,  weather-beaten  negro 
man,  who  instantly  took  off  his  hat  as  Mr.  Peterkin  approached. 

"  Well,  Nace,  you  see  I've  bought  this  wench  to-day,"  and 
he  shook  his  whip  over  my  head. 

"  Ya  !  ya !  Massa,  but  she  ha'  got  one  goot  home  wid  yer." 

"  Yes,  has  she,  Nace ;  but  don't  yer  think  the  slut  has  been 
cryin'  'bout  it !" 

V  Lor'  bless  us,  Massa,  but  a  little  of  the  beech-tree  will  fetch 


18  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

that  sort  of  truck  out  of  her,"  and  old  Nace  showed  his  broken 
teeth,  as  he  gave  a  forced  laugh. 

"  I  guess  I  can  take  the  fool  out  en  her,  by  the  time  I  gives 
her  two  or  three  swings  at  the  whippin'-post." 

Nace  shook  his  head  knowingly,  and  gave  a  low  guttural 
laugh,  by  way  of  approval  of  his  master's  capabilities. 

"Jump  in  the  wagon,  gal,"  said  my  new  master,  "jump  in 
quick  ;  I  likes  to  see  niggers  active,  none  of  your  pokes  'bout 
me ;  but  this  will  put  sperit  in  'em,"  and  there  was  another  de- 
fiant flourish  of  the  whip. 

I  got  in  with  as  much  haste  and  activity  as  I  could  possibly 
command.  This  appeared  to  please  Mr.  Peterkin,  and  he  gave 
evidence  of  it  by  saying, — 

"  Well,  that  does  pretty  well ;  a  few  stripes  a  day,  and  you'll 
be  a  valerble  slave  ;"  and,  getting  in  the  vehicle  himself,  he 
ordered  Nace  to  drive  on  " pretty  peart ,"  as  night  would  soon 
overtake  us. 

Just  as  we  were  starting  I  perceived  Josh,  one  of  my  play- 
mates, running  after  us  with  a  small  bundle,  shouting, — 

"  Here,  Ann,  you've  lef '  yer  bundle  of  close." 

"  Stop,  Nace,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin,  "let's  git  the  gal's  duds,  or 
I'll  be  put  to  the  'spence  of  gittin'  new  ones  for  her." 

Little  Josh  came  bounding  up,  and,  with  an  affectionate  man- 
ner, handed  me  the  little  wallet  that  contained  my  entire  ward- 
robe. I  leaned  forward,  and,  in  a  muffled  tone,  but  with  my 
whole  heart  hanging  on  my  lip,  asked  Josh  "  how  is  mother  ?" 
but  a  cut  of  Nace's  whip,  and  a  quick  "  gee-up,"  put  me  beyond 
the  hearing  of  the  reply.  I  strained  my  eyes  after  Josh,  to 
interpret  the  motion  of  his  lips. 

In  a  state  of  hopeless  agony  I  sat  through  the  remainder  of 
the  journey.  The  coarse  jokes  and  malignant  threats  of  Mr. 
Peterkin  were  answered  with  laughing  and  dutiful  assent  by  the 
veteran  Nace.  I  tried  to  deceive  my  persecutors  by  feigning 
sleep,  but,  ah,  a  strong  finger  held  my  lids  open,  and  slumber 
fled  away  to  gladden  lighter  hearts  and  bless  brighter  eyes. 


CHAPTEK   II. 

A    VIEW      OF     THE      NEW      HOME. 

The  young  moon  had  risen  in  mild  and  meek  serenity  to  bless 
the  earth.  With  a  strange  and  fluctuating  light  the  pale  rays 
played  over  the  leaves  and  branches  of  the  forest  trees,  and 
flickered  fantastically  upon  the  ground  !  Only  a  few  stars  were 
discernible  in  the  highest  dome  of  heaven  !  The  lowing  of 
wandering  cows,  or  the  chirp  of  a  night-bird,  had  power  to  be- 
guile memory  back  to  a  thousand  vanished  joys.  I  mused  and 
wept ;  still  the  wagon  jogged  along.  Mr.  Peterkin  sat  half- 
sleeping  beside  old  Nace,  whose  occasional  "gee-up"  to  the 
lagging  horses,  was  the  only  human  sound  that  broke  the  soft 
serenity  !  Every  moment  seemed  to  me  an  age,  for  I  dreaded 
the  awakening  of  my  cruel  master.  Ah,  little  did  I  dream  that 
that  horrid  day's  experience  was  but  a  brief  foretaste  of  what 
I  had  yet  to  suffer ;  and  well  it  was  for  me  that  a  kind  and 
merciful  Providence  veiled  that  dismal  future  from  my  gaze. 
About  midnight  I  had  fallen  into  a  quiet  sleep,  gilded  by  the 
sweetest  dream,  a  dream  of  the  old  farm-house,  of  mother, 
grandfather,  and  my  companions. 

From  this  vision  I  was  aroused  by  the  gruff  voice  of  Peter- 
kin,  bidding  me  get  out  of  the  wagon.  That  voice  was  to  me 
more  frightful  and  fearful  than  the  blast  of  the  last  trump. 
Springing  suddenly  up,  I  threw  off  the  shackles  of  sleep ;  and 
consciousness,  with  all  its  direful  burden,  returned  fully  to  me. 
Looking  round,  by  the  full  light  of  the  moon,  I  beheld  a  large 
country  house,  half  hidden  among  trees.  A  "white  paling  en- 
closed the  ground,  and  the  scent  of  dewy  roses  and  other  garden 
flowers  filled  the  atmosphere. 

"  Now,  Nace,  put  up  the  team,  and  git  yourself  to  bed,"  said 


20  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Peterkin.  Turning-  to  me  he  added,  "  give  this  gal  a  blanket, 
and  let  her  sleep  on  the  floor  in  Polly's  cabin ;  keep  a  good 
watch  on  her,  that  she  don't  try  to  run  off." 

"  Needn't  fear  dat,  Massa,  for  de  bull-dog  tear  her  to  pieces 
if  she  'tempt  dat.  By  gar,  I'd  like  to  see  her  be  for  tryin'  it  ;'* 
and  the  old  negro  gave  a  fiendish  laugh,  as  though  he  thought  it 
would  be  rare  sport. 

Mr.  Peterkin  entered  the  handsome  house,  of  which  he  was 
the  rich  and  respected  owner,  whilst  I,  conducted  by  Nace,  re- 
paired to  a  dismal  cabin.  After  repeated  knocks  at  the  door  of 
this  most  wretched  hovel,  an  old  crone  of  a  negress  muttered 
between  her  clenched  teeth,  "  Who's  dar  ?" 

"  It's  me,  Polly  ;  what  you  be  'bout  dar,  dat  you  don't  let  me 
in?" 

"  What  for  you  be  bangin'  at  my  cabin  ?  I's  got  no  bisness 
wid  you." 

"  Yes,  but  I's  got  bisness  wid  you ;  stir  yer  ole  stumps  now." 

''  I  shan't  be  for  troublin'  mysef  and  lettin'  you  in  my  cabin 
at  dis  hour  ob  de  night-time  ;  and  if  you  doesn't  be  off,  I'll 
make  Massa  gib  you  a  sound  drubbin'  in  de  mornin'." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  now  I'm  gots  you  sure  ;  for  massa  sends  me  here 
himsef." 

This  was  enough  for  Polly  ;  she  broke  off  all  further  colloquy, 
and  opened  the  door  instantly. 

The  pale  moonlight  rested  as  lovingly  upon  that  dreary,  un- 
chinked,  rude,  and  wretched  hovel,  as  ever  it  played  over  the 
gilded  roof  and  frescoed  dome  of  ancient  palaces ;  but  ah,  what 
squalor  did  it  not  reveal  !  There,  resting  upon  pallets  of  straw, 
like  pigs  in  a  litter,  were  groups  of  children,  and  upon  a  rickety 
cot  the  old  woman  reposed  her  aged  limbs.  How  strange, 
lonely,  and  forbidding  appeared  that  tenement,  as  the  old  woman 
stood  in  the  doorway,  her  short  and  scanty  kirtles  but  poorly 
concealing  her  meagre  limbs.  A  dark,  scowling  countenance 
looked  out  from  under  a  small  cap  of  faded  muslin  :  little  bleared 
eyes  glared  upon  me,  like  the  red  light  of  a  heated  furnace.  In- 
stinctively I  shrank  back  from  her,  but  Nace  was  tired,  and  not 


THE  QUESTIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE.  21 

wishing  to  be  longer  kept  from  Lis  bed,  pushed  me  within  the 
door,  saying — 

"Thar,  Polly,  Massa  say  dat  gal  mus'  sleep  in  dar." 
"Come  long  in,  gal,"  said  the  woman,  and  closing  the  door. 
she  pointed  to  a  patch  of  straw,  "  sleep  dar." 

The  moonbeams  stole  in  through  the  crevices  and  cracks  of 
the  cabin,  and  cast  a  mystic  gleam  upon  the  surrounding  objects. 
Without  further  word  or  comment,  Polly  betook  herself  to  her 
cot,  and  was  soon  snoring  away  as  though  there  were  no  such 
thing  as  care  or  slavery  in  the  world  But  to  me  sleep  was  a 
stranger.  There  I  lay  through  the  remaining  hours  of  the 
night,  wearily  thinking  of  mother  and  home.  "  Sold,"  I  mur- 
mured. "  What  is  it  to  be  sold  1  Why  was  1  sold  ?  Why 
separated  from  my  mother  and  friends  ?  Why  couldn't  mother 
some  with  me.  or  I  stay  with  her  ?  I  never  saw  Mr.  Peterkin 
before.  Who  gave  him  the  right  to  force  me  from  my  good 
home  and  kind  friends  ?"  These  questions  would  arise  in  my 
mind,  and,  alas  !  I  had  no  answers  for  them.  Young  and  igno- 
rant as  I  was,  I  had  yet  some  glimmering  idea  of  justice.  Later 
in  life,  these  same  questions  have  often  come  to  me,  as  sad  com- 
mentaries upon  the  righteousness  of  human  laws ;  and,  when 
sitting  in  splendid  churches  listening  to  ornate  and  worldly 
harangues  from  holy  men,  these  same  thoughts  have  tingled 
upon  my  tongue.  And  I  have  been  surprised  to  see  how 
strangely  these  men  mistake  the  definition  of  servitude.  Why, 
from  the  exposition  of  the  worthy  divines,  one  would  sup- 
pose that  servitude  was  a  fair  synonym  for  slavery  !  Admit- 
ting that  we  are  the  descendants  of  the  unfortunate  Ham,  and 
endure  our  bondage  as  the  penalty  affixed  to  his  crime,  there 
can  be  no  argument  or  fact  adduced,  whereby  to  justify  slavery 
as  a  moral  right.  Serving  and  being  a  slave  are  very  different. 
And  why  may  not  Ham's  descendants  claim  a  reprieve  by  virtue 
of  the  passion  and  death  of  Christ  ?  Are  we  excluded  from  the 
grace  of  that  atonement  1  No  ;  there  is  no  argument,  no  reason, 
to  justify  slavery,  save  that  of  human  cupidity.  But  there  will 
come  a  day,  when  each  and  every  one  who  has  violated  that 


22  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

divine  rule,  u  Do  unto  others  as  you  would  have  them  do  unto 
you,"  will  stand  with  a  fearful  accountability  before  the  Su- 
preme Judge.  Then  will  there  be  loud  cries  and  lamentations, 
and  a  wish  for  the  mountains  to  hide  them  from  the  eye  of 
Judicial  Majesty. 

The  next  morning  I  rose  with  the  dawn,  and  sitting  upright 
upon  my  pallet,  surveyed  the  room  and  its  tenants.  There,  in 
comfortless  confusion,  upon  heaps  of  straw,  slumbered  five  chil- 
dren, dirty  and  ragged.  On  the  broken  cot,  with  a  remnant  of 
a  coverlet  thrown  over  her,  lay  Aunt  Polly.  A  few  broken 
stools  and  one  pine  box,  with  a  shelf  containing  a  few  tins,  con- 
stituted the  entire  furniture. 

"  And  this  wretched  pen  is  to  be  my  home ;  these  dirty-look- 
ing children  my  associates."  Oh,  how  dismal  were  my  thoughts; 
but  little  time  had  I  for  reflection.  The  shrill  sound  of  a  hunt- 
ing-horn was  the  summons  for  the  servants  to  arise,  and  woe 
unto  him  or  her  who  was  found  missing  or  tardy  when  the 
muster-roll  was  called.  Aunt  Polly  and  the  five  children  sprang 
up,  and  soon  dressed  themselves.  They  then  appeared  in  the 
yard,  where  a  stout,  athletic  man,  with  full  beard  and  a  dull  eye, 
stood  with  whip  in  hand.  He  called  over  the  names  of  all,  and 
portioned  out  their  daily  task.  With  a  smile  more  of  terror  than 
pleasure,  they  severally  received  their  orders.  I  stood  at  the 
extremity  of  the  range.  After  disposing  of  them  in  order,  the 
overseer  (for  such  he  was)  looked  at  me  fiercely,  and  said  : 

''  Come  here,  gal." 

With  a  timid  step,  I  obeyed. 

"  What  are  you  fit  for  ?  Not  much  of  anything,  ha  ?"  and 
catching  hold  of  my  ear  he  pulled  me  round  in  front  of  him, 
saying, 

"  Well,  you  are  likely-looking ;  how  much  work  can  you 
do  V 

I  stammered  out  something  as  to  my  willingness  to  do  any- 
thing that  was  required  of  me.  He  examined  my  hands,  and 
concluding  from  their  dimensions  that  I  was  best  suited  for 
house-work,  he   bade   me    remain  in   the   kitchen  until   after 


A    KENTUCKY    KITCHEN.  23 

breakfast.  When  I  entered  the  room  designated,  par  politesse, 
as  the  kitchen,  I  was  surprised  to  find  such  a  desolate  and  des- 
titute-looking place.  The  apartment,  which  was  very  small, 
seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  Pandora's  Box,  into  which  everything  of 
household  or  domestic  use  had  been  crowded.  The  walls  were 
hung  round  with  saddles,  bridles,  horse-blankets,  &c.  Upon  a 
swinging  shelf  in  the  centre  of  the  room  were  ranged  all  the 
seeds,  nails,  ropes,  dried  elms,  and  the  rest  of  the  thousand  and 
one  little  notions  of  domestic  economy.  A  rude,  wooden  shelf  con- 
tained a  dark,  dusty  row  of  unclean  tins ;  broken  stools  and  old 
kegs  were  substituted  for  chairs  ;  upon  these  were  stationed 
four  or  five  ebony  children  ;  one  of  them,  a  girl  about  nine  years 
old,  with  a  dingy  face,  to  which  soap  and  water  seemed  foreign, 
and  with  shaggy,  moppy  hair,  twisted  in  short,  stringy  plaits,  sat 
upon  a  broken  keg,  with  a  squalid  baby  in  her  lap,  which  she 
jostled  upon  her  knee,  whilst  she  sang  in  a  sharp  key,  ''  hushy- 
by-baby."  Three  other  wretched  children,  in  tow-linen  dresses, 
whose  brevity  of  skirts  made  a  sad  appeal  to  the  modesty  of 
spectators,  were  perched  round  this  girl,  whom  they  called 
Amy.  They  were  furiously  begging  Aunt  Polly  (the  cook)  to 
give  them  a  piece  of  hoe-cake. 

"  Be  off  wid  you,  or  I'll  tell  Massa,  or  de  overseer,"  answered 
the  beldame,  as  their  solicitations  became  more  clamorous, 
This  threat  had  power  to  silence  the  most  earnest  demands  of 
the  stomach,  for  the  fiend  of  hunger  was  far  less  dreaded  than 
the  lash  of  Mr.  Jones,  the  overseer.  My  entrance,  and  the 
sight  of  a  strange  face,  was  a  diversion  for  them.  They  crowd- 
ed closer  to  Amy,  and  eyed  me  with  a  half  doubtful,  and  alto- 
gether ludicrous  air. 

"  Who's  her  ?"  ''  whar  she  come  from  ?"  "  when  her  gwyn 
away  V  and  such  like  expressions,  escaped  them,  in  stifled 
tones. 

"  Come  in,  set  down,"  said  Aunt  Polly  to  me,  and,  turning  to 
the  group  of  children,  she  levelled  a  poker  at  them. 

"  Keep  still  dar,  or  I'll  break  your  pates  wid  dis  poker." 

Instantly  they  cowered  down  beside  Amy,  still  peeping  over 


24  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

her  shoulder,  to  get  a  better  view  of  me.  "With  a  very  uneasy 
feeling  I  seated  myself  upon  the  broken  stool,  to  which  Aunt 
Polly  pointed.  One  of  the  boldest  of  the  children  came  up  to 
me,  and,  slyly  touching  my  dress,  said,  "  tag,"  then  darted  off 
to  her  hiding-place,  with  quite  the  air  of  a  victress.  Amy 
made  queer  grimaces  at  me.  Every  now  and  then  placing  her 
thumb  to  her  nose,  and  gyrating  her  finger  towards  me,  she 
would  drawl  out,  "  you  ka-n-t  kum  it."  All  this  was  perfect 
jargon  to  me  ;  for  at  home,  though  we  had  been  but  imperfectly 
protected  by  clothing  from  the  vicissitudes  of  seasons,  and 
though  our  fare  was  simple,  coarse,  and  frugal,  had  we  been 
kindly  treated,  and  our  manners  trained  into  something  like  the 
softness  of  humanity.  There,  as  regularly  as  the  Sunday 
dawned,  were  we  summoned  to  the  house  to  hear  the  Bible 
read,  and  join  (though  at  a  respectful  distance)  with  the  family 
in  prayer.  But  this  I  subsequently  learned  was  an  unusual 
practice  in  the  neighborhood,  and  was  attributed  to  the  fact, 
that  my  master's  wife  had  been  born  in  the  State  of  Massachu- 
setts, where  the  people  were  crazy  and  fanatical  enough  to  be- 
lieve that  "  niggers"  had  souls,  and  were  by  God  held  to  be  re- 
sponsible beings. 

The  loud  blast  of  the  horn  was  the  signal  for  the  "  hands  " 
to  suspend  their  labor  and  come  to  breakfast.  Two  negro  men 
and  three  women  rushed  in  at  the  door,  ravenous  for  their 
rations.  I  looked  about  for  the  table,  but,  seeing  none,  concluded 
it  had  yet  to  be  arranged ;  for  at  home  we  always  took  our 
meals  on  a  table.  I  was  much  surprised  to  see  each  one  here 
take  a  slice  of  fat  bacon  and  a  pone  of  bread  in  his  or  her  hand, 
and  eat  it  standing. 

"  Well,"  said  one  man,  "  I'd  like  to  git  a  bit  more  bread." 

"  You's  had  your  sher,"  replied  Aunt  Polly.  "  Mister  Jones 
ses  one  slice  o'  meat  and  a  pone  o'  bread  is  to  be  the  'lowance." 

"  I  knows  it,  but  if  thar's  any  scraps  left  from  the  house  table, 
you  wimmin  folks  always  gits  it." 

"  Who's  got  de  bes'  right  ?  Sure,  and  arn't  de  one  who  cooks 
it  got  de  bes'  right  to  it  ?"  asked  Polly,  with  a  triumphant  voice. 


THE  AFFRAY  AND  PUNISHMENT.  25 

"Ha,  La!"  cried  Nace,  "here  comes  de  breakfast  leavin's, 
now  who's  smartest  shall  have  'em ;"  whereupon  Nace,  his 
comrade,  and  the  three  women,  seized  a  waiter  of  fragments  of 
biscuit,  broiled  ham,  coffee,  &c,  the  remains  of  the  breakfast 
prepared  for  the  white  family. 

"  By  gar,"  cried  Nace,  "  I've  got  de  coffee-pot,  and  I'll  drink 
dis ;"  so,  without  further  ceremony,  he  applied  the  spout  to  his 
mouth,  and,  sans  cream  or  sugar,  he  quaffed  off  the  grounds. 
Jake  possessed  himself  of  the  ham,  whilst  the  two  women  held 
a  considerable  contest  over  a  biscuit.  Blow  and  lie  passed  fre- 
quently between  them.  Aunt  Polly  brandished  her  skimmer- 
spoon,  as  though  it  were  Neptune's  trident  of  authority ;  still 
she  could  not  allay  the  confusion  which  these  excited  cormorants 
raised.  The  children  yelled  out  and  clamored  for  a  bit ;  the 
sight  and  scent  of  ham  and  biscuits  so  tantalized  their  palates, 
that  they  forgot  even  the  terror  of  the  whip.  I  stood  all  agape, 
looking  on  with  amazement. 

The  two  belligerent  women  stood  with  eyes  blazing  like 
comets,  their  arms  twisted  around  each  other  in  a  very  decided 
and  furious  rencontre.  One  of  them,  losing  her  balance,  fell 
upon  the  floor,  and,  dragging  the  other  after  her,  they  rolled 
and  wallowed  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  whilst  the  disputed  biscuit,  in 
the  heat  of  the  affray,  had  been  dropped  on  the  hearth,  where, 
unperceived  by  the  combatants,  Nace  had  possessed  himself  of 
it,  and  was  happily  masticating  it. 

Melinda,  the  girl  from  whom  the  waiter  had  been  snatched, 
doubtless  much  disappointed  by  the  loss  of  the  debris,  returned 
to  the  house  and  made  a  report  of  the  fracas. 

Instantly  and  unexpectedly,  Jones,  flaming  with  rage,  stood 
in  the  midst  of  the  riotous  group.  Seizing  hold  of  the  women, 
he  knocked  them  on  their  heads  with  his  clenched  fists. 

"  Hold,  black  wretches,  come,  I  will  give  you  a  leetle  fun ; 
off  now  to  the  post."  % 

Then  such  appeals  for  mercy,  promises  of  amendment,  en- 
treaties, excuses,  &c,  as   the  two  women  made,  would  have 
touched  a  heart  of  stone ;  but  Jones  had  power  to  resist  even 
2 


26  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

the  prayers  of  an  angel.  To  hirn  the  cries  of  human  suffering 
and  the  agony  of  distress  were  music.  My  heart  bled  when  I 
saw  the  two  victims  led  away,  and  I  put  my  hands  to  my  ears 
to  shut  out  the  screams  of  distress  which  rang  with  a  strange 
terror  on  the  morning  air.  Poor,  oppressed  African  !  thorny 
and  rugged  is  your  path  of  life !  Many  a  secret  sigh  and  bleeding 
tear  attest  your  cruel  martyrdom  !  Surely  He,  who  careth  alike 
for  the  high  and  the  low,  looks  not  unmoved  upon  you,  wearing 
and  groaning  beneath  the  pressing  burden  and  galling  yoke  of  a 
most  inhuman  bondage.  For  you  there  is  no  broad  rock  of  Hope 
or  Peace  to  cast  its  shadow  of  rest  in  this  "  weary  land."  You 
must  sow  in  tears  and  reap  in  sorrow.  But  He,  who  led  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel  from  the  house  of  bondage  and  the  fetters  of  cap- 
tivity, will,  in  His  own  inscrutable  way,  lead  you  from  the  condi- 
tion of  despair,  even  by  the  pillar  of  fire  and  the  cloud.  Great 
changes  are  occurring  daily,  old  constitutions  are  tottering,  old 
systems,  fraught  with  the  cruelty  of  darker  ages,  are  shaking 
to  their  centres.  Master  minds  are  everywhere  actively  en- 
gaged. Keen  eyes  and  vigilant  hearts  are  open  to  the  wrongs 
of  the  poor,  the  lowly  and  the  outcast.  An  avenging  angel  sits 
concealed  'mid  the  drapery  of  the  wasting  cloud,  ready  to  pour 
the  vials  of  God's  wrath  upon  a  haughty  and  oppressive  race. 
In  the  threatened  famine,  see  we  nothing  but  an  accidental 
failure  of  the  crops  ?  In  the  exhausted  coffers  and  empty  public 
treasury,  is  there  nothing  taught  but  the  lesson  of  national  ex- 
travagance 1  In  the  virulence  of  disease,  the  increasing  preva- 
lence of  fatal  epidemics,  what  do  we  read  ?  Send  for  the  seers, 
the  wise  men  of  the  nation,  and  bid  them  translate  the  "  mys- 
terious writing  on  the  wall."  Ah,  well  may  ye  shake,  Kings 
of  Mammon,  shake  upon  your  tottering  throne  of  human  bones! 
Give  o'er  your  sports,  suspend  your  orgies,  dash  down  the  jew- 
elled cup  of  unhallowed  joy,  sparkling  as  it  is  to  the  very  brim. 
You  must  pay,  like  him  of  old,  the  fearful  price  of  sin.  God 
hath  not  heard,  unmoved,  the  anguished  cries  of  a  down-trodden 
and  enslaved"  nation  !  And  it  needs  no  Daniel  to  tell,  that 
"  God  hath  numbered  your  Kingdom  and  it  is  finished." 


THE    YOUNG    LADIES.  27 

As  may  be  supposed,  I  had  little  appetite  for  my  breakfast, 
but  I  managed  to  deceive  others  into  the  belief  that  I  had  made 
a  hearty  meal.  But  those  screams  from  half-famished  wretches 
had  a  fatal  and  terrifying  fascination ;  never  once  could  I 
forget  it. 

A  look  of  fright  was  on  the  face  of  all.  "  They  be  gettin' 
awful  beatin'  at  the  post,"  muttered  Nace,  whilst  a  sardonic 
smile  flitted  over  his  hard  features.  Was  it  not  sad  to  behold 
the  depths  of  degradation  into  which  this  creature  had  fallen  ? 
He  could  smile  at  the  anguish  of  a  fellow-creature.  Originally, 
his  nature  may  have  been  kind  and  gentle ;  but  a  continuous 
system  of  brutality  had  so  deadened  his  sensibilities,  that  he 
had  no  humanity  left.     For  this,  the  white  man  is  accountable. 

After  the  breakfast  was  over,  I  received  a  summons  to  the 
house.  Following  Melinda,  I  passed  the  door-sill,  and  stood  in 
the  presence  of  the  assembled  household.  A  very  strange 
group  I  thought  them.  Two  girls  were  seated  beside  the  un- 
cleared breakfast  table,  "  trying  their  fortune  "  (as  the  phrase 
goes)  with  a  cup  of  coffee-grounds  and  a  spoon.  The  elder  of 
the  two  was  a  tall,  thin  girl,  with  sharp  features,  small  gray 
eyes,  and  red-hair  done  up  in  frizettes  ;  the  other  was  a  prim, 
dark-skinned  girl,  with  a  set  of  nondescript  features,  and  hair 
of  no  particular  hue,  or  "just  any  color;"  but  with  the  same 
harsh  expression  of  face  that  characterized  the  elder.  As  she 
received  the  magic  cup  from  her  sister,  she  exclaimed,  "  La, 
Jane,  it  will  only  be  two  years  until  you  are  married,"  and  made 
a  significant  grimace  at  her  father  (Mr.  Peterkin),  who  sat 
near  the  window,  indulging  in  the  luxury  of  a  cob-pipe.  The 
taller  girl  turned  toward  me,  and  asked, 

"  Father,  is  that  the  new  girl  you  bought  at  old  Nelson's 
sale  ?" 

"  Yes,  that's  the  gal.     Does  she  suit  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  dear  me !  how  very  light  she  is — almost  white ! 
I  know  she  will  be  impudent." 

"  She  has  come  to  the  wrong  place  for  the  practice  of  that 
article,"  suggested  the  other. 


28  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Yes,  gal,  you  Las  got  to  mind  them  ar'  wimmcn,"  said  Mr. 
Peterkin  to  me,  as  he  pointed  toward  his  daughters. 

41  Father,  I  do  wish  you  would  quit  that  vulgarism  j  say  girl, 
not  gal,  and  ladies,  not  women." 

"  Oh,  I  was  never  edicated,  like  you." 

''Educated  is  the  word." 

"  Oh,  confound  your  dictionaries !  Ever  since  that  school- 
marm  come  out  from  Yankee-land,  these  neighborhood  gals  talk 
so  big,  nobody  can  understand  'em." 


CHAPTEE    III. 

THE    YANKEE    SCHOOL-MISTRESS — HER   PHILOSOPHY — THE 
AMERICAN    ABOLITIONISTS. 

The  family  with  whom  I  now  found  a  home,  consisted  of 
Mr.  Feterkin  and  his  two  daughters,  Jane  and  Matilda,  and  a 
son,  John,  much  younger  than  the  ladies. 

The  death  of  Mrs.  Peterkin  had  occurred  about  three  years 
before  I  went  to  live  with  them.  The  girls  had  been  very  well 
educated  by  a  Miss  Bradly,  from  Massachusetts,  a  spinster  of 
"no  particular  age."  From  her,  the  Misses  Peterkin  learned  to 
set  a  great  value  upon  correct  and  elegant  language.  She  was 
the  model  and  instructress  of  the  country  round;  for,  under  her 
jurisdiction,  nearly  all  the  farmers'  daughters  had  been  initi- 
ated into  the  mysteries  of  learning.  Scattered  about,  over  the 
house,  I  used  to  frequently  find  odd  leaves  of  school-books,  ele- 
mentary portions  of  natural  sciences,  old  readers,  story-books, 
novels,  &c.  These  I  eagerly  devoured ;  but  I  had  to  be  very 
secret  about  it,  studying  by  dying  embers,  reading  by  moon- 
light, sun-rise,  &c.  Had  I  been  discovered,  a  severe  punishment 
would  have  followed.  Miss  Jane  used  to  say,  "a  literary  negro 
was  disgusting,  not  to  be  tolerated."  Though  she  quarrelled 
with  the  vulgar  talk  and  bad  pronunciation  of  her  father,  he  was 
made  of  too  rough  material  to  receive  a  polish  ;  and,  though 
Miss  Bradly  had  improved  the  minds  of  the  girls,  her  efforts  to 
soften  their  hearts  had  met  with  no  success.  They  were  the 
same  harsh,  cold  and  selfish  girls  that  she  had  found  them.  It 
was  Jane's  boast  that  she  had  whipped  more  negroes  than  any 
other  girl  of  her  age.  Matilda,  though  less  severe,  had  still  a 
touch  of  the  tigress. 

This  family  lived  in  something  like  "  style."      They  were 

[29] 


30  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

famed  for  their  wealth  and  social  position  throughout  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  house  was  a  low  cottage  structure,  with  large 
and  airy  apartments ;  an  arching  piazza  ran  the  whole  length 
of  the  building,  and  around  its  trellised  balustrade  the  clematis 
vine  twined  in  rich  luxuriance.  A  primrose-walk  led  up  to  the 
door,  and  the  yard  blossomed  like  a  garden,  with  the  fairest 
flowers.  It  was  a  very  Paradise  of  homes  ;  pity,  ah  pity  'twas, 
that  human  fiends  marred  its  beauty.  There  the  sweet  flowers 
bloomed,  the  young  birds  warbled,  pure  springs  gushed  forth  with 
limpid  joy — there  truly,  "  All,  save  the  spirit  of  man,  was 
divine."  The  traveller  often  paused  to  admire  the  tasteful  ar- 
rangements of  the  grounds,  the  neat  and  artistic  plan  of  the. 
house,  and  the  thorough  "  air"  of  everything  around.  It  seemed 
to  bespeak  refined  minds,  and  delicate,  noble  natures;  but  oh, 
the  flowers  were  no  symbols  of  the  graces  of  their  hearts,  for  the 
dwellers  of  this  highly-adorned  spot  were  people  of  coarse  na- 
tures, rough  and  cruel  as  barbarians.  The  nightly  stars  and  the 
gentle  moon,  the  deep  glory  of  the  noontide,  or  the  blowing  of 
twilight  breezes  over  this  chosen  home,  had  no  power  to  ennoble 
or  elevate  their  souls.  Acts  of  diabolical  cruelty  and  wickedness 
were  there  perpetrated  without  the  least  pang  of  remorse  or  re- 
gret. Whilst  the  Avhite  portion  of  the  family  were  revelling  in 
luxury,  the  slaves  were  denied  the  most  ordinary  necessaries. 
The  cook,  who  prepared  the  nicest  dainties,  the  most  tempting 
viands,  had  to  console  herself  with  a  scanty  diet,  coarse  enough 
to  shock  even  a  beggar.  What  wonder,  then,  if  the  craving  of 
the  stomach  should  allow  her  no  escape  from  downright  theft! 
Who  is  there  that  could  resist  ?  Where  is  the  honesty  that  could 
not,  under  such  circumstances,  find  an  argument  to  justify  lar- 
ceny? 

Every  evening  Miss  Bradly  came  to  spend  an  hour  or  so  with 
them.  The  route  from  the  school  to  her  boarding-house  wound 
by  Mr.  Peterkin's  residence,  and  the  temptation  to  talk  to  the 
young  ladies,  who  were  emphatically  the  belles  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, was  too  great  for  resistance.  This  lady  was  of  that  class 
of  females  which  we  meet  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe, — of 


THE    ABOLITIONISTS.  31 

perfectly  kind  intentions,  jet  without  the  independence  neces- 
sary for  their  open  and  free  expression.  Bred  in  the  North,  and 
having  from  her  infancy  imbibed  the  spirit  of  its  free  institutions, 
in  her  secret  soul  she  loathed  the  abomination  of  slavery,  every 
pulse  of  her  heart  cried  out  against  it,  yet  with  a  strange  com- 
pliance she  lived  in  its  midst,  never  once  offering  an  objection 
or  an  argument  against  it.  It  suited  her  policy  to  laugh  with 
the  pro-slavery  man  at  the  fanaticism  of  the  Northern  Abolition- 
ist. With  a  Judas-like  hypocrisy,  she  sold  her  conscience  for 
silver;  and  for  a  mess  of  pottage,  bartered  the  noble  right  of 
free  expression.  'Twas  she,  base  renegade  from  a  glorious  cause, 
who  laughed  loudest  and  repeated  wholesale  libels  and  foul  as- 
persions upon  the  able  defenders  of  abolition — 'noble  and  gener- 
ous men,  lofty  philanthropists,  who  are  willing,  for  the  sake  of 
principle,  to  wear  upon  their  brows  the  mark  of  social  and  polit- 
ical ostracism!  But  a  day  is  coming,  a  bright  millennial  day, 
when  the  names  of  these  inspired  prophets  shall  be  inscribed 
proudly  upon  the  litany  of  freedom  ;  when  their  noble  efforts 
for  social  reform  shall  be  told  in  wondering  pride  around  the 
winter's  fire.  Then  shall  their  fame  shine  with  a  glory  which 
no  Roman  tradition  can  eclipse.  Freed  from  calumny,  the 
names  of  Parker,  Seward  and  Sumner,  will  be  ranked,  as  they 
deserve  to  be,  with  Washington,  Franklin  and  Henry.  All 
glory  to  the  American  Abolitionists.  Though  they  must  now 
possess  their  souls  in  patience,  and  bear  the  brand  of  social  op- 
probrium, yet  will  posterity  accord  them  the  meed  of  everlast- 
ing honor.  They  "  who  sow  in  dishonor  shall  be  raised  in  glory." 
Already  the  watchman  upon  the  tower  has  discerned  the  signal. 
A  light  beameth  in  the  East,  which  no  man  can  quench.  A  fire 
has  broken  forth,  which  needs  only  a  breath  to  fan  it  into  a 
flame.  The  eternal  law  of  sovereign  right  will  vindicate  itself. 
In  the  hour  of  feasting  and  revelry  the  dreadful  bolt  of  retribu- 
tion fell  upon  Gomorrah. 


CHAPTER    IV 

CONVERSATION  WITH    MISS  BRAULY — A  LIGHT  BREAKS    THROUGH 
THE    DARKNESS. 

I  had  been  living  with  Mr.  Peterkin  about  three  years,  during 
which  time  I  had  frequently  seen  Miss  Bradly.  One  evening 
when  she  called  (as  was  her  custom  after  tbe  adjournment  of 
school),  she  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  the  young  ladies  had  gone 
out,  and  would  not  probably  be  back  for  several  hours.  She 
looked  a  little  disconcerted,  and  seemed  doubtful  whether  she 
would  go  home  or  remain.  I  bad  often  observed  her  attentively 
watching  me,  yet  I  could  not  interpret  the  look  ;  sometimes  I 
thought  it  was  of  deep,  earnest  pity.  Then  it  appeared  only  an 
anxious  curiosity;  and  as  commiseration  was  a  thing  which  I 
seldom  met  with,  I  tried  to  guard  my  heart  against  anything 
like  hope  or  trust ;  but  on  this  afternoon  I  was  particularly 
struck  by  her  strange  and  irresolute  manner.  She  turned  sev- 
eral times  as  if  to  leave,  then  suddenly  stopped,  and,  looking 
very  earnestly  at  me,  asked,  ''  Did  you  say  the  girls  would  not 
return  for  several  hours  ?" 

Upon  receiving  an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  she  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  inquired  for  Mr.  Peterkin.  He  was  also  from 
home,  and  would  probably  be  absent  for  a  day  or  two.  "  Is 
there  no  white  person  about  the  place  ?"  she  asked,  with  some 
trepidation. 

"  No  one  is  here  but  the  slaves,''  1  replied,  perhaps  in  a  sor- 
rowful tone,  for  the  word  "  slave"  always  grated  upon  my  ear, 
yet  I  frequently  used  it,  in  obedience  to  a  severe  and  imperative 
conventionality. 

"  Well  then,  Ann,  come  and  sit  down  near  me  ;  I  want  to 
talk  with  you  awhile." 

[32] 


KIND    WORDS.  33 

This  surprised  me  a  great  deal.  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do. 
The  very  idea  of  sitting  down  to  a  conversation  with  a  white 
lady  seemed  to  me  the  wildest  improbability.  A  vacant  stare 
was  the  only  answer  I  could  make.  Certainly,  1  did  not  dream 
of  her  being  in  earnest. 

"  Come  on,  Ann,"  she  said,  coaxingly ;  but,  seeing  that  my 
amazement  increased,  she  added,  in  a  more  persuasive  tone, 
"  Don't  be  afraid,  I  am  a  friend  to  the  colored  race." 

This  seemed  to  me  the  strangest  fiction.  A  white  lady,  and 
yet  a  friend  tq  the  colored  race  !  Oh,  impossible  !  such  con- 
descension was  unheard  of  !  What  !  she  a  refined  woman, 
with  a  snowy  complexion,  to  stoop  from  her  proud  elevation  to 
befriend  the  lowly  Ethiopian  !  Why,  she  could  not,  she  dare 
not  !  Almost  stupefied  with  amazement,  I  stood,  with  my  eyes 
intently  fixed  upon  her. 

"  Come,  child,"  she  said,  in  a  kind  tone,  and  placing  her  hand 
upon  my  shoulder,  she  endeavored  to  seat  me  beside  her,  "look 
up, — be  not  ashamed,  for  I  am  truly  your  friend.  Your  down- 
cast look  and  melancholy  manner  have  often  struck  me  with 
sorrow." 

To  this  I  could  make  no  reply.  Utterance  was  denied  me. 
My  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth;  a  thick,  filmy  veil 
gathered  before  my  sight ;  and  there  I  stood  like  one  turned  to 
stone.  But  upon  being  frequently  reassured  by  her  gentle 
manner  and  kind  words,  I  at  length  controlled  my  emotions, 
and,  seating  myself  at  her  feet,  awaited  her  communication. 

"Ann,  you  are  not  happy  here  ?" 

I  said  nothing,  but  she  understood  my  look. 

"  Were  you  happy  at  home  ?" 

''  I  was;"  and  the  words  were  scarcely  audible. 

"  Did  they  treat  you  kindly  there  ?" 

"  Indeed  they  did ;  and  there  I  had  a  mother,  and  was  not 
lonely." 

'?  They  did  not  beat  you  ?" 

"  No,  no,  they  did  not,"  and  large  tears  gushed  from  my 
burning  eyes ; — for  I  remembered  Avith    anguish,  how  many  a 


34  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

smarting  blow  had  been  given  to  me  by  Mr.  Jones,  how  many 
a  cuff  by  Mr.  Peterkin,  and  ten  thousand  knocks,  pinches,  and 
tortures,  by  the  young  ladies. 

"  Don't  weep,  child,"  said  Miss  Bradly,  in  a  soothing  tone, 
and  she  laid  her  arm  caressingly  around  my  neck.  This  kind- 
ness was  too  much  for  my  fortitude,  and  bursting  through  all 
restraints  I  gave  vent  to  my  feelings  in  a  violent  shower  of 
tears.  She  very  wisely  allowed  me  some  time  for  the  gratifica- 
tion of  this  luxury.  I  at  length  composed  myself,  and  begged 
her  pardon  for  this  seeming  disrespect. 

"  But  ah,  my  dear  lady,  you  have  spoken  so  kindly  to  me 
that  I  forgot  myself." 

"  No  apology,  my  child,  I  tell  you  again  that  I  am  your 
friend,  and  with  me  you  can  be  perfectly  free.  Look  upon  me 
as  a  sister;  but  now  that  your  excited  feelings  have  become 
allayed,  let  me  ask  you  why  your  master  sold  you  V 

I  explained  to  her  that  it  was  necessary  to  the  equal  division 
of  the  estate  that  some  of  the  slaves  should  be  sold,  and  that  I 
was  among  the  number. 

"  A  bad  institution  is  this  one  of  slavery.  What  fearful 
entailments  of  anguish!  Manage  it  as  the  most  humane  will,  or 
can,  still  it  has  horrible  results.  Witness  your  separation  from 
your  mother.     Did  these  thoughts  never  occur  to  you  1" 

I  looked  surprised,  but  dared  not  tell  her  that  often  had 
vague  doubts  of  the  justice  of  slavery  crossed  my  mind.  Ah, 
too  much  I  feared  the  lash,  and  I  answered  only  by  a  mournful 
look  of  assent. 

"  Ann,  did  you  never  hear  of  the  Abolition  Society  1" 

I  shook  my  head.  She  paused,  as  if  doubtful  of  the  propri- 
ety of  making  a  disclosure ;  but  at  length  the  better  principle 
triumphed,  and  she  said,  "There  is  in  the  Northern  States  an 
organization  which  devotes  its  energies  and  very  life  to  the 
cause  of  the  slave.  They  wish  to  abolish  the  shameful  system, 
and  make  you  and  all  your  persecuted  race  as  free  and  happy 
as  the  whites." 

*'  Does  there  really  exist  such  a  society ;  or  is  it  only  a  wild 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    HOPE.  35 

fable  that  you  tell  me,  for  the  purpose  of  allaying  my  present 
agony  1" 

"  No,  child  ;  I  do  not  deceive  you.  This  noble  and  beneficent 
society  really  lives ;  but  it  does  not,  I  regret  to  say,  flourish  as 
it  should." 

"  And  why  ?''  I  asked,  whilst  a  new  wonder  was  fastening  on 
my  mind. 

"Because,"  she  answered,  "the  larger  portion  of  the  whites 
are  mean  and  avaricious  enough  to  desire,  for  the  sake  of  pecu- 
niary aggrandizement,  the  enslavement  of  a  race,  whom  the 
force  of  education  and  hereditary  prejudice  have  taught  them  to 
regard  as  their  own  property." 

I  did  but  dimly  conceive  her  meaning.  A  slow  light  was 
breaking  through  my  cloudy  brain,  kindling  and  inflaming  hopes 
that  now  shine  like  beacons  over  the  far  waste  of  memory. 
Should  I,  could  I,  ever  he  free  ?  Oh,  bright  and  glorious  dream  ! 
how  it  did  sparkle  in  my  soul,  and  cheer  me  through  the  lonely 
hours  of  bondage  !  This  hope,  this  shadow  of  a  hope,  shone  like 
a  mirage  far  away  upon  the  horizon  of  a  clouded  future. 

Miss  Bradly  looked  thoughtfully  at  me,  as  if  watching  the 
effect  of  her  words;  but  she  could  not  see  that  the  seed  which 
she  had  planted,  perhaps  carelessly,  was  destined  to  fructify 
and  flourish  through  the  coming  seasons.  I  longed  to  pour  out 
my  heart  to  her  ;  for  she  had,  by  this  ready  ''  sesame,"unlocked 
its  deepest  chambers.  I  dared  not  unfold  even  to  her  the  wild 
dreams  and  strange  hopes  which  I  was  indulging. 

I  spied  Melinda  coming  up,  and  signified  to  Miss  Bradly 
that  it  would  be  unsafe  to  prolong  the  conversation,  and  quickly 
she  departed;  not,  however,  without  reassuring  me  of  the  interest 
which  she  felt  in  my  fate. 

"  "What  was  Miss  Emily  Bradly  talking  wid  you  'bout  ?"  de- 
manded Melinda,  in  a  surly  tone. 

"Nothing  that  concerns  you,"  I  answered. 

"  "Well,  but  you'll  see  that  it  consarns  yerself,  when  I  goes 
and  tells  Masser  on  you." 

""What  can  you  tell  him  on  me  ?" 


36  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Oh,  I  knows,  I  hearn  you  talking  wid  clat  ar'  woman ;"  and 
she  gave  a  significant  leer  of  her  eye,  and  lolled  her  tongue  out 
of  her  mouth,  a,  la  mad  dog. 

I  was  much  disturbed  lest  she  had  heard  the  conversation, 
and  should  make  a  report  of  it,  which  would  redound  to  the  dis- 
advantage of  my  new  friend.  I  went  about  my  usual  duties 
with  a  slow  and  heavy  heart ;  still,  sometimes,  like  a  star  shin- 
ing through  clouds,  was  that  little  bright  hope  of  liberty. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  FASHIONABLE  TEA-TABLE — TABLE-TALK — AUNT  POLLY'S  EX- 
PERIENCE  THE  OVERSEER'S  AUTHORITY THE  WHIPPING- 
POST— TRANSFIGURING    POWER    OF  DIVINE    FAITH. 

That  evening  when  the  family  returned,  I  was  glad  to  find  the 
young  ladies  in  such  an  excellent  humor.  It  was  seldom  Miss 
Jane,  whose  peculiar  property  I  was,  ever  gave  me  a  kind  word ; 
and  I  was  surprised  on  this  occasion  to  hear  her  say,  in  a  some- 
what gentle  tone  : 

"  Well,  Ann,  come  here,  I  want  you  to  look  very  nice  to-night, 
and  wait  on  the  table  in  style,  for  I  am  expecting  company ;" 
and,  with  a  sort  of  half  good-natured  smile,  she  tossed  an  old 
faded  neck-ribbon  to  me,  saying, 

"  There  is  a  present  for  you."  I  bowed  low,  and  made  a 
respectful  acknowledgment  of  thanks,  which  she  received  in  an 
unusually  complacent  manner. 

Immediately  I  began  to  make  arrangements  for  supper,  and 
to  get  myself  in  readiness,  which  was  no  small  matter,  as  my 
scanty  wardrobe  furnished  no  scope  for  the  exercise  of  taste. 
In  looking  over  my  trunk,  I  found  a  white  cotton  apron,  which 
could  boast  of  many  mice-bites  and  moth-workings  ;  but  with  a 
needle  and  thread  I  soon  managed  to  make  it  appear  decent, 
and,  combing  my  hair  as  neatly  as  possible,  and  tying  the  rib- 
bon which  Miss  Jane  had  given  me  around  it,  I  gave  the  finish- 
ing touch  to  my  toilette,  and  then  set  about  arranging  the  table. 
I  assorted  the  tea-board,  spoons,  cups,  saucers,  &c,  placed  a 
nice  damask  napkin  at  each  seat,  and  turned  down  the  round 
little  plates  of  white  French  china.  The  silver  forks  and  ivory- 
handled  knives  were  laid  round  the  table  in  precise  order. 
This  done,  I  surveyed  my  work  with  an  air  of  pride.     Smiling 

[ST] 


38  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

complacently  to  myself,  I  proceeded  to  Miss  Jane's  room,  to 
request  her  to  come  and  look  at  it,  and  express  her  opinion. 

On  reaching  her  apartment,  I  found  her  dressed  with  great 
care,  in  a  pink  silk,  with  a  rich  lace  bertke,  and  pearl  orna- 
ments. Her  red  hair  was  oiled  until  its  fiery  hue  had  darkened 
into  a  becoming  auburn,  and  the  metallic  polish  of  the  French 
powder  had  effectually  concealed  the  huge  freckles  which 
spotted  her  cheeks. 

Dropping  a  low  courtesy,  I  requested  her  to  come  with  me  to 
the  dining-room  and  inspect  my  work.  With  a  smile,  she  fol- 
lowed, and  upon  examination,  seemed  well  pleased. 

"  Now,  Ann,  if  you  do  well  in  officiating,  it  will  be  well  for 
you  ;  but  if  you  fail,  if  you  make  one  mistake,  you  had  better 
never  been  born,  for,"  and  she  grasped  me  strongly  by  the 
shoulder,  "  I  will  flay  you  alive ;  you  shall  ache  and  smart  in 
every  limb  and  nerve." 

Terror-stricken  at  this  threat,  I  made  the  most  earnest 
promises  to  exert  my  very  best  energies.  Yet  her  angry  man- 
ner and  threatening  words  so  unnerved  me,  that  I  was  not  able 
to  go  on  with  the  work  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  I  had  begun, 
for  we  all  know  what  a  paralysis  fear  is  to  exertion. 

I  stepped  out  on  the  balcony  for  some  purpose,  and  there, 
standing  at  the  end  of  the  gallery,  but  partially  concealed  by 
the  clematis  blossoms,  stood  Miss  Jane,  and  a  tall  gentleman 
was  leaning  over  the  railing  talking  very  earnestly  to  her.  In 
that  uncertain  light  I  could  see  the  flash  of  her  eye  and  the 
crimson  glow  of  her  cheek.  She  was  twirling  and  tearing  to 
pieces,  petal  by  petal,  a  beautiful  rose  which  she  held  in  her 
hand.  Here,  I  thought  here  is  happiness ;  this  woman  loves 
and  is  beloved.  She  has  tasted  of  that  one  drop  which  sweetens 
the  whole  cup  of  existence.  Oh,  what  a  thing  it  is  to  he  free — 
free  and  independent,  with  power  and  privilege  to  go  whither- 
soever you  choose,  with  no  cowardly  fear,  no  dread  of  espionage, 
with  the  right  to  hold  your  head  proudly  aloft,  and  return 
glance  for  glance,  not  shrink  and  cower  before  the  white  man's 
look,  as  we  poor  slaves  must  do.     But  not  many  moments  could 


AUNT  POLLY'S  EXPERIENCE.  39 

I  thus  spend  in  thought,  and  well,  perhaps,  it  was  for  me  that 
duty  broke  short  all  such  unavailing  regrets. 

Hastening  back  to  the  dining-room,  I  gave  another  inquiring 
look  at  the  table,  fearful  that  some  article  had  been  omitted. 
Satisfying  myself  on  this  point,  I  moved  on  to  the  kitchen, 
where  Aunt  Polly  was  busy  frying  a  chicken. 

"  Here,  child,"  she  exclaimed,  "  look  in  thai*  at  them  biscuits. 
See  is  they  done.  Oh,  that's  prime,  browning  beautiful-like," 
she  said,  as  I  drew  from  the  stove  a  pan  of  nice  biscuits,  "  and 
this  ar'  chicken  is  mighty  nice.  Oh,  but  it  will  make  the  young 
gemman  smack  his  lips,"  and  wiping  the  perspiration  from  her 
sooty  brow,  she  drew  a  long  breath,  and  seated  herself  upon  a 
broken  stool. 

"Wal,  this  ar'  nigger  is  tired.  I's  bin  cooking  now  this 
twelve  years,  and  never  has  I  had  ■  mission'  to  let  my  old  man 
come  to  see  me,  or  I  to  go  see  him." 

The  children,  with  eyes  wide  open,  gathered  round  Aunt 
Polly  to  hear  a  recital  of  her  wrongs.  "  Laws-a-marcy,  sights 
I's  seen  in  my  times,  and  often  it  'pears  like  I's  lost  my  senses. 
I  tells  you,  yous  only  got  to  look  at  this  ar'  back  to  know  what 
I's  went  through."  Hereupon  she  exposed  her  back  and  arms, 
which  were  frightfully  scarred. 

"  This  ar'  scar,"  and  she  pointed  to  a  very  deep  one  on  her 
left  shoulder,  "  Masser  gib  me  kase  I  cried  when  he  sold  my 
oldest  son ;  poor  Jim,  he  was  sent  doAvn  the  river,  and  I've 
never  hearn  from  him  since."  She  wiped  a  stray  tear  from  her 
old  eyes. 

'■  Oh  me  !  'tis  long  time  since  my  eyes  hab  watered,  and  now 
these  tears  do  feel  so  quare.  Poor  Jim  is  down  the  river,  Johnny 
is  dead,  and  Lucy  is  sold  somewhar,  so  I  have  neither  chick 
nor  child.     What's  I  got  to  live  fur  ?" 

This  brought  fresh  to  my  mind  recollections  of  my  own 
mother's  grief,  when  she  was  forced  to  give  me  up,  and  I  could 
not  restrain  my  tears. 

"  What  fur  you  crying,  child  ?"  she  asked.  "  It  puts  me  in 
mind  ov  my  poor  little  Luce,  she  used  to  cry  this  way  whenever 


40  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

anything  happened  to  me.  Oh,  many  is  the  time  she  screamed 
if  master  struck  me.'' 

"  Poor  Annt  Polly,"  I  said,  as  I  walked  np  to  her  side,  ''  I  do 
pity  you.     I  will  be  kind  to  you ;    I'll  be  your  daughter." 

She  looked  up  with  a  wild  stare,  and  with  a  deep  earnestness 
seized  hold  of  my  out-stretched  hand ;  then  dropping  it  suddenly, 
she  murmured, 

"  No,  no,  you  ain't  my  darter,  you  comes  to  me  with  saft 
words,  but  you  is  jest  like  Lindy  and  all  the  rest  of  'em ;  you'll  go 
to  the  house  and  tell  tales  to  the  white  folks  on  me.  No,  I'll  not 
trust  any  of  you." 

Springing  suddenly  into  the  room,  with  his  eyes  flaming,  came 
Jones,  and,  cracking  his  whip  right  and  left,  he  struck  each  of 
the  listening  group.  I  retreated  hastily  to  an  extreme  corner 
of  the  kitchen,  where,  unobserved  by  him,  I  could  watch  the 
affray. 

"  You  devilish  old  wretch,  Polly,  what  are  you  gabbling  and 
snubbling  here  about  ?  Up  with  your  old  hide,  and  git  yer 
supper  ready.  Don't  you  know  thar  is  company  in  the  house  ?" 
and  here  he  gave  another  sharp  cut  of  the  whip,  which  de- 
scended upon  that  poor  old  scarred  back  with  a  cruel  force,  and 
tore  open  old  cicatriced  wounds.  The  victim  did  not  scream, 
nor  shrink,  nor  murmur ;  but  her  features  resumed  their  wonted 
hard,  encrusted  expression,  and,  rising  up  from  her  seat,  she 
went  on  with  her  usual  work. 

"  Now,  cut  like  the  wind,"  he  added,  as  he  flourished  his  whip 
in  the  direction  of  the  young  blacks,  who  had  been  the  interested 
auditors  of  Aunt  Polly's  hair-breadth  escapes,  and  quick  as 
lightning  they  were  off  to  their  respective  quarters,  whilst  I 
proceeded  to  assist  Aunt  Polly  in  dishing  up  the  supper 

"This  chicken,"  said  I,  in  a  tone  of  encouragement,  "  is  beau- 
tifully cooked.  How  brown  it  is,  and  oh,  what  a  delightful 
savory  odor." 

"  I'll  be  bound  the  white  folks  will  find  fault  wid  it.  Nobody 
ever  did  please  Miss  Jane.  Her  is  got  some  of  the  most  per- 
kuler  notions  'bout  cookin'.     I  knows  she'll  be  kommin'  out 


THE    SLAVE'S   SOLILOQUY.  41 

here,  makin'  a  fuss  'long  wid  me  'bout  dis  same  supper,"  and 
the  old  woman  shook  her  head  knowingly. 

I  made  no  reply,  for  I  feared  the  re-appearance  of  Mr.  Jones, 
and  too  often  and  too  painfully  had  I  felt  the  sting  of  his  lash, 
to  he  guilty  of  any  wanton  provocation  of  its  severity. 

Silently,  but  with  bitter  thoughts  curdling  my  life-blood,  did 
I  arrange  the  steaming  cookies  upon  the  luxurious  board,  and 
then,  with  a  deferential  air,  sought  the  parlor,  and  bade  them 
walk  out  to  tea. 

I  found  Miss  Jane  seated  near  a  fine  rosewood  piano,  and  stand- 
ing beside  her  was  a  gentleman,  the  same  whom  I  had  observed 
with  her  upon  the  verandah.  Miss  Matilda  was  at  the  window, 
looking  out  upon  the  western  heaven.  I  spoke  in  a  soft  tone, 
asking  them,  "  Please  walk  out  to  tea."  The  young  gentleman 
rose,  and  offered  his  arm  to  Miss  Jane,  which  was  graciously 
accepted,  and  Miss  Matilda  followed.  I  swung  the  dining-room 
door  open  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony,  for  I  knew  that  any- 
thing showy  or  grand,  either  in  the  furniture  of  a  house  or  the 
deportment  of  a  servant,  would  be  acceptable  to  Miss  Jane. 
Fashion,  or  style,  was  the  god  of  her  worship,  and  she  often  de- 
clared that  her  principal  objection  to  the  negro,  was  his  great 
want  of  style  in  thought  and  action.  She  was  not  deep  enough 
to  see,  that,  fathoms  down  below  the  surface,  in  all  the  crudity  of 
ignorance,  lay  a  stratum  of  this  same  style,  so  much  worshipped 
by  herself.  Does  not  the  African,  in  his  love  of  gaud,  show,  and 
tinsel,  his  odd  and  grotesque  decorations  of  his  person,  exhibit  a 
love  of  style  ?  But  she  was  not  philosopher  enough  to  see  that 
this  was  a  symptom  of  the  same  taste,  though  ungarnished  and 
semi-barbarous. 

The  supper  passed  off  very  handsomely,  so  far  as  mj  part 
was  concerned.  I  carried  the  cups  round  on  a  silver  salver  to 
each  one ;  served  them  with  chicken,  plied  them  with  cakes, 
confections,  &c,  and  interspersed  my  performance  with  innumer- 
able courtesies,  bows  and  scrapes. 

"Ah,"  said  Miss  Jane  to  the  gentleman,  "ah,  Mr.  Somerville, 
you  have  visited  us  at  the  wrong  season  ;  you  should  be  here 


42  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

later  in  the  autumn,  or  earlier  in  the  summer,''  and  she  gave  one 
of  her  most  benign  smiles. 

"Any  season  is  pleasant  here,"  replied  Mr.  Somerville,  as  he 
held  the  wing  of  a  chicken  between  his  thumb  and  fore-finger. 
Miss  Jane  simpered  and  looked  down  ;  and  Miss  Matilda  arched 
her  brows  and  gave  a  significant  side-long  glance  toward  her 
sister. 

"  Here,  you  cussed  yallow  gal,"  cried  Mr.  Peterkin,  in  a  rage, 
"  take  this  split  spoon  away  and  fetch  me  a  fork  what  I  ken 
use.  These  darned  things  is  only  made  for  grand  folks,"  and 
he  held  the  silver  fork  to  me.  Instantly  I  replaced  it  with  a 
steel  one. 

"  Now  this  looks  something  like.  We  only  uses  them  ar' 
other  ones  when  we  has  company,  so  I  suppose,  Mr.  Somerville, 
the  girl  sot  the  table  in  this  grand  way  bekase  you  is  here." 

No  thunder-cloud  was  ever  darker  than  Miss  Jane's  brow. 
It  gathered,  and  deepened,  and  darkened  like  a  thick-coming 
tempest,  whilst  lightnings  blazed  from  her  eye. 

"  Father,"  and  she  spoke  through  her  clenched  teeth,  "  what 
makes  you  affect  this  horrid  vulgarity  ?  and  how  can  yoix  be  so 
very  idiosyncratic'  (this  was  a  favorite  word  with  her)  "  as  to 
say  you  never  use  them  ?  Ever  since  I  can  remember,  silver 
forks  have  been  used  in  our  family  ;  but,"  and  she  smiled  as  she 
said  it,  "  Mr.  Somerville,  father  thinks  it  is  truly  a  Kentucky 
fashion,  and  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  the  early  settlers,  to 
rail  out  against  fashion  and  style." 

To  this  explanation  Mr.  Somerville  bowed  blandly.  "  Ah, 
yes,  I  do  admire  your  father's  honest  independence." 

"  I'll  jist  tell  you  how  it  is,  young  man,  my  gals  has  bin 
better  edicated  than  their  pappy,  and  they  pertends  to  be  mighty 
'shamed  of  me,  bekase  I  has  got  no  larnin' ;  but  I  wants  to  ax 
'em  one  question,  whar  did  the  money  kum  from  that  give  'em 
thar  laming?"  and  with  a  triumphant  force  he  brought  his  hard 
fist  down  on  the  table,  knocking  off  with  his  elbow  a  fine  cut- 
glass  tumbler,  which  was  shivered  to  atoms. 

"  Thar  now,"  he  exclaimed,  "  another  piece  of  yer  cussed 


TABLE  TALK ITS  CONSEQUENCE.  43 

frippery  is  breaked  to  bits.  What  did  you  put  it  here  fur?  I 
wants  that  big  tin-cup  tbat  I  drinks  out  of  when  nobody's 
here." 

"  Father,  father,"  said  Miss  Matilda,  who  until  now  had  kept 
an  austere  silence,  "  why  will  you  persist  in  this  outrageous 
talk  ?  Why  will  you  mortify  and  torture  us  in  this  cruel  way?" 
and  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  angry  tears. 

"  Oh,  don't  blubber  about  it,  Tilcly,  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt 
your  feelin's." 

Pretty  soon  after  this,  the  peace  of  the  table  being  broken  up, 
the  ladies  and  Mr.  Somerville  adjourned  to  the  parlor,  whilst 
Melinda,  or  Lindy,  as  she  was  called,  and  I  set  about  clearing 
ofF  the  table,  washing  up  the  dishes,  and  gathering  and  counting 
over  the  forks  and  spoons. 

Now,  though  the  young  ladies  made  great  pretensions  to 
elegance  and  splendor  of  living,  yet  were  they  vastly  economi- 
cal when  there  was  no  company  present.  The  silver  was  all 
carefully  laid  away,  and  locked  up  in  the  lower  drawer  of  an 
old-fashioned  bureau,  and  the  family  appropriated  a  commoner 
article  to  their  every-clay  use ;  but  let  a  solitary  guest  appear, 
and  forthwith  the  napkins  and  silver  would  be  displayed,  and 
treated  by  the  ladies  as  though  it  was  quite  a  usual  thing. 

"Now,  Ann,"  said  'Lindy  "  you  wash  the  dishes,  and  I'll  count 
the  spoons  and  forks." 

To  this  I  readily  assented,  for  I  was  anxious  to  get  clear  of 
such  a  responsible  office  as  counting  and  assorting  the  silver 
ware. 

Mr.  Peterkin,  or  master,  as  we  called  him,  sat  near  by,  smok- 
ing his  cob-pipe  in  none  the  best  humor ;  for  the  recent  encounter 
at  the  supper-table  was  by  no  means  calculated  to  improve  his 
temper. 

"See  here,  gals,"  he  cried  in  a  tone  of  thunder,  "if  thar  be 
one  silver  spoon  or  fork  missin',  yer  hides  shall  pay  for  the  loss." 

"  Laws,  master,  I'll  be  'tickler  enough,"  replied  Lindy,  as  she 
smiled,  more  in  terror  than  pleasure. 

"  Wal,"  he  said.,  half  aloud,  "  whar  is  the  use  of  my  darters 


44  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

takin'  on  in  the  way  they  does  ?  Jist  look  at  the  sight  o'  money 
that  has  bin  laid  out  in  that  ar'  tom-foolery." 

This  was  a  sort  of  soliloquy  spoken  in  a  tone  audible  enough 
to  be  distinct  to  us. 

He  drew  his  cob-pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  a  huge  volume  of 
smoke  curled  round  his  head,  and  filled  the  room  with  the  aroma 
of  tobacco. 

"  Now,"  he  continued,  "they  does  not  treat  me  wid  any  per- 
liteness.  They  thinks  they  knows  a  power  more  than  I  does; 
but  if  they  don't  cut  their  cards  square,  I'll  cut  them  short  of  a 
nigger  or  two,  and  make  John  all  the  richer  by  it." 

Lindy  cut  her  eye  knowingly  at  this,  and  gave  me  rather  a 
strong  nudge  with  her  elbow. 

"  Keep  still  thar,  gals,  and  don't  rattle  them  cups  and  sassers 
so  powerful  hard." 

By  this  time  Lindy  had  finished  the  assortment  of  the  silver, 
and  had  carefully  stowed  it  away  in  a  willow-basket,  ready  to 
be  delivered  to  Miss  Jane,  and  thence  consigned  to  the  drawer, 
where  it  would  remain  in  statu  quo  until  the  timely  advent  of 
another  guest. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  I  am  ready  to  wipe  the  dishes,  while  you 
wash." 

Thereupon  I  handed  her  a  saucer,  which,  in  her  carelessness, 
she  let  slip  from  her  hand,  and  it  fell  upon  the  floor,  and  there, 
with  great  consternation,  I  beheld  it  lying,  shattered  to  fragments. 
Mr.  Peterkin  sprang  to  his  feet,  glad  of  an  excuse  to  vent  his 
temper  upon  some  one. 

"  Which  of  you  cussed  wretches  did  this  ?" 

"  'Twas  Ann,  master  !   She  let  it  fall  afore  I  got  my  hand  on  it. 

Ere  I  had  time  to  vindicate  myself  from  the  charge,  his  iron 
arm  felled  me  to  the  floor,  and  his  hoof-like  foot  was  placed  upon 
my  shrinking  chest. 

"  You  d — n  yallow  hussy,  does  you  think  I  buys  such  expen- 
sive chany-ware  for  you  to  break  up  in  this  ar'  way  1  No,  you 
'bominable  wench,  I'll  have  revenge  out  of  your  saffer'n  hide. 
Here,  Lindy,  fetch  me  that  cowhide." 


THE   APPEAL.  »  45 

"  Mercy,  master,  mercy,"  I  cried,  when  he  had  removed  his 
foot  from  my  breast,  and  my  breath  seemed  to  come  again.  "  Oh, 
listen  to  me ;  it  was  not  I  who  broke  the  saucer,  it  was  only  an 
accident ;  but  oh,  in  God's  name,  have  mercy  on  me  and  Lindy." 

"  Yes,  I'll  tache  you  what  marcy  is.  Here,  quick,  some  of 
you  darkies,  bring  me  a  rope  and  light.  I'm  goin'  to  take  this 
gal  to  the  whippin'-post.'' 

This  overcame  me,  for,  though  I  had  often  been  cruelly  beaten, 
yet  had  I  escaped  the  odium  of  the  "  post ;"  and  now  for  what  I 
had  not  done,  and  for  a  thing  which,  at  the  worst,  was  but  an 
accident,  to  bear  the  disgrace  and  the  pain  of  a  public  whipping, 
seemed  to  me  beyond  endurance.  I  fell  on  my  knees  before 
him: 

"  Oh,  master,  please  pardon  me ;  spare  me  this  time.  I  have 
got  a  half-dollar  that  Master  Edward  gave  me  when  you  bought 
me,  I  will  give  you  that  to  pay  for  the  saucer,  but  please  do  not 
beat  me." 

With  a  wild,  fiendish  grin,  he  caught  me  by  the  hair  and 
swung  me  round  until  I  half-fainted  with  pain. 

"  No,  you  wretch,  I'll  git  my  satisfaction  out  of  yer  body  yit, 
and  I'll  be  bound,  afore  this  night's  work  is  done,  yer  yallow 
hide  will  be  well  marked." 

A  deadly,  cold  sensation  crept  over  me,  and  a  feeling  as  of 
crawling  adders  seemed  possessing  my  nerves.  With  all  my 
soul  pleading  in  my  eyes  I  looked  at  Mr.  Peterkin  ;  but  one 
glance  of  his  fiendish  face  made  my  soul  quail  with  even  a  newer 
horror.  I  turned  my  gaze  from  him  to  Jones,  but  the  red  glare 
of  a  demon  lighted  up  his  frantic  eye,  and  the  words  of  a  profane 
bravo  were  on  his  lips.  From  him  I  turned  to  poor,  hardened, 
obdurate  old  Nace,  but  he  seemed  to  be  linked  and  leagued  with 
my  torturers. 

11  Oh,  Lindy,"  I  cried,  as  she  came  up  with  a  bunch  of  cord 
in  her  hand,  "  be  kind,  tell  the  truth,  maybe  master  will  forgive 
you.  You  are  an  older  servant,  better  known  and  valued  in  the 
family.  Oh,  let  your  heart  triumph.  Speak  the  truth,  and  free 
me  from  the  torture  that  awaits  me.     Oh,  think  of  me,  away  off 


46  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

here,  separated  from  my  mother,  with  no  friend.  Oh,  pity  me, 
and  do  acknowledge  that  you  broke  it." 

"  Well,  you  is  crazy,  you  knows  dat  I  never  touched  de 
sacer,"  and  she  laughed  heartily. 

"  Come  along  wid  you  all.     Now  fur  fun,"  cried  Nace. 

"  Hold  your  old  jaw,"  said  Jones,  and  he  raised  his  whip. 
Nace  cowered  like  a  criminal,  and  made  some  polite  speech  to 
"  Massa  Jones,"  and  Mr.  Peterkin  possessed  himself  of  the  rope 
which  Lindy  had  brought. 

"  Now  hold  yer  hands  here,"  he  said  to  me. 

For  one  moment  I  hesitated.  I  could  not  summon  courage  to 
offer  my  hands.  It  was  the  only  resistance  that  I  had  ever 
dared  to  make.  A  severe  blow  from  the  overseer's  riding-whip 
reminded  me  that  I  was  still  a  slave,  and  dared  have  no  will 
save  that  of  my  master.  This  blow,  which  struck  the  back  of 
my  head,  laid  me  half-lifeless  upon  the  floor.  Whilst  in  this 
condition  old  Nace,  at  the  command  of  his  master,  bound  the 
rope  tightly  around  my  crossed  arms  and  dragged  me  to  the 
place  of  torment. 

The  motion  or  exertion  of  being  pulled  along  over  the  ground, 
restored  me  to  full  consciousness.  With  a  haggard  eye  I  looked 
up  to  the  still  blue  heaven,  where  the  holy  stars  yet  held  their 
silent  vigil ;  and  the  serene  moon  moved  on  in  her  starry  track, 
never  once  heeding  the  dire  cruelty,  over  which  her  pale  beam 
shed  its  friendly  light.  "  Ob,"  thought  I,  "  is  there  no  mercy 
throned  on  high  ?  Are  there  no  spirits  in  earth,  air,  or  sky,  to 
lend  me  their  gracious  influence  ?  Does  God  look  down  with 
kindness  upon  injustice  like  this  ?  Or,  does  He,  too,  curse  me  in 
my  sorrow,  and  in  His  wrath  turn  away  His  glorious  face  from 
my  supplication,  and  say  '  a  servant  of  servants  sbalt  thou  be  V  " 
These  wild,  rebellious  thougbts  only  crossed  my  mind ;  they 
did  not  linger  there.  No,  like  the  breath-stain  upon  the  polished 
surface  of  the  mirror,  they  only  soiled  for  a  moment  the  shining 
faith  which  in  my  soul  reflected  the  perfect  goodness  of  that  God 
who  never  forgets  the  humblest  of  His  children,  and  who  makes 
no  distinction  of  color  or  of  race.     The  consoling  promise,  "  He 


THE    POWER    OF    FAITH.  41 

chasteneth  whom  He  loveth,"  flashed  through  my  brain  with  its 
blessed  assurance,  and  reconciled  me  to  a  heroic  endurance. 
Far  away  I  strained  my  gaze  to  the  starry  heaven,  and  I  could 
almost  fancy  the  sky  breaking  asunder  and  disclosing  the  won. 
drous  splendors  which  were  beheld  by  the  rapt  Apostle  on  the 
isle  of  Patmos!  Oh,  transfiguring  power  of  faith!  Thou  hast 
a  wand  more  potent  than  that  of  fancy,  and  a  vision  brighter 
than  the  dreams  of  enchantment !  What  was  it  that  reconciled 
me  to  the  horrible  tortures  which  were  awaiting  me  ?  Surely, 
'twas  faith  alone  that  sustained  me.  Tbe  present  scene  faded 
away  from  my  vision,  and,  in  fancy,  I  stood  in  the  lonely  garden 
of  Gethsemane.  I  saw  the  darkness  and  gloom  that  over- 
shadowed the  earth,  when,  deserted  by  His  disciples,  our  blessed 
Lord  prayed  alone.  I  heard  the  sighs  and  groans  that  burst 
from  his  tortured  breast.  I  saw  the  bloody  sweat,  as  prostrate 
on  the  earth  he  lay  in  the  tribulation  of  mortal  agony.  I  saw 
the  inhuman  captors,  headed  by  one  of  His  chosen  twelve,  come 
to  seize  his  sacred  person.  I  saw  his  face  uplifted  to  the  mournful 
heavens,  as  He  prayed  to  His  Father  to  remove  the  cup  of 
sorrow.  I  saw  Him  bound  and  led  away  to  death,  without  a 
friend  to  solace  Him.  Through  the  various  stages  of  His  awful 
passion,  even  to  the  Mount  of  Crucifixion,  to  the  bloody  and 
sacred  Calvary,  I  followed  my  Master.  I  saw  Him  nailed  to 
the  cross,  spit  upon,  vilified  and  abused,  with  the  thorny  crown 
pressed  upon  His  brow.  I  heard  the  rabble  shout ;  then  I  saw 
the  solemn  mystery  of  Nature,  that  did  attestation  to  the  awful 
fact  that  a  fiendish  work  had  been  done  and  the  prophecy  ful- 
filled. The  vail  of  the  great  temple  was  rent,  the  sun  overcast, 
and  the  moon  turned  to  blood ;  and  in  my  ecstasy  of  passion,  I 
could  have  shouted,  Great  is  Jesus  of  Nazareth  !  !  Then  I 
beheld  Him  triumphing  over  the  powers  of  darkness  and  death, 
when,  robed  in  the  white  garments  of  the  grave,  He  broke 
through  the  rocky  sepulchre,  and  stood  before  the  affrighted 
guards.  His  work  was  done,  the  propitiation  had  been  made, 
and  He  went  to  His  Father.  This  same  Jesus,  whom  the  civil- 
ized world  now  worship  as  their  Lord,  was  once  lowly,  outcast, 


48  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

and  despised ;  born  of  the  most  hated  people  of  the  world,  be- 
longing to  a  race  despised  alike  .by  Jew  and  Gentile  ;  laid  in 
the  manger  of  a  stable  at  Bethlehem,  with  no  earthly  possessions, 
having  not  whereon  to  lay  His  weary  head ;  buffetted,  spit 
npon ;  condemned  by  the  high  priests  and  the  doctors  of  law ; 
branded  as  an  impostor,  and  put  to  an  ignominious  death,  with 
every  demonstration  of  public  contempt ;  crucified  between  two 
tbieves  ;  this  Jesus  is  worshipped  now  by  those  who  wear  purple 
and  fine  linen.  The  class  which  once  scorned  Him,  now  offer 
at  His  shrine  frankincense  and  myrrh ;  but,  in  their  adoration 
of  the  despised  Nazarene,  they  never  remember  that  He  has  de- 
clared, not  once,  but  many  times,  that  the  poor  and  the  lowly 
are  His  people.  "  Forasmuch  as  you  did  it  unto  one  of  these 
you  did  it  unto  me."  Then  let  the  African  trust  and  hope  on — 
let  him  still  weep  and  pray  in  Gethsemane,  for  a  cloud  hangs 
round  about  him,  and  when  he  prays  for  the  removal  of  this 
cup  of  bondage,  let  him  remember  to  ask,  as  his  blessed  Master 
did,  "  Thy  will,  oh  Father,  and  not  our  own,  be  done  ;"  still 
trust  in  Him  who  calmed  the  raging  tempest :  trust  in  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  !     Look  beyond  the  cross,  to  Christ. 

These  thoughts  had  power  to  cheer ;  and,  fortified  by  faith 
and  religion,  the  trial  seemed  to  me  easy  to  bear.  One  prayer 
I  murmured,  and  my  soul  said  to  my  body,  "  pass  under  the 
rod ;"  and  the  cup  which  my  Father  has  given  me  to  drink 
must  be  drained,  even  to  the  dregs. 

In  this  state  of  mind,  with  a  moveless  eye  I  looked  upon  the 
wbipping-post,  which  loomed  up  before  me  like  an  ogre. 

This  was  a  quadri-lateral  post,  about  eight  feet  in  height, 
having  iron  clasps  on  two  opposing  sides,  in  which  the  wrists 
and  ankles  were  tightly  sectired. 

"  Now,  Lindy,"  cried  Jones,  ''jerk  off  that  gal's  rigging,  I  am 
anxious  to  put  some  marks  on  her  yellow  skin." 

I  knew  that  resistance  was  vain ;  so  I  submitted  to  have  my 
clothes  torn  from  my  body  ;  for  modesty,  so  much  commended 
in  a  white  woman,  is  in  a  negro  pronounced  affectation. 


A    CRUEL    WHIPPING.  .  49 

Jones  drew  down  a  huge  cow-hide,  which  he  dipped  in  a  barrel 
of  brine  that  stood  near  the  post. 

"  I  guess  this  will  sting,"  he  said,  as  he  flourished  the  whip 
toward  me. 

"Leave  that  thin  slip  on  me,  Lindy,"  I  ventured  to  ask;  for 
I  dreaded  the  exposure  of  my  person  even  more  than  the  whip- 
ping. 

"  None  of  your  cussed  impedence ;  strip  off  naked.  "What 
is  a  nigger's  hide  more  than  a  hog's  ?"  cried  Jones.  Lindy  and 
Nace  tore  the  last  article  of  clothing  from  my  back.  I  felt  my 
soul  shiver  and  shudder  at  this  ;  but  what  could  I  do  ?  I  could 
fray — thank  God,  I  could  pray  ! 

I  then  submitted  to  have  Nace  clasp  the  iron  cuffs  around 
my  hands  and  ankles,  and  there  I  stood,  a  revolting  spectacle. 
With  what  misery  I  listened  to  obscene  and  ribald  jests  from 
my  master  and  his  overseer  ! 

"  Now,  Jones,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin,  "  I  want  to  give  that  gal  the 
first  lick,  which  will  lay  the  flesh  open  to  the  bone." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Peterkin,  here  is  the  whip ;  now  you  can  lay  on." 

"  No,  confound  your  whip ;  I  wants  that  cow-hide,  and  here, 
let  me  dip  it  well  into  the  brine.  I  want  to  give  her  a  real  good 
warmin' ;  one  that  she'll  'member  for  a  long  time." 

During  this  time  I  had  remained  motionless.  My  heart  was 
lifted  to  God  in  silent  prayer.  Oh,  shall  I,  can  I,  ever  forget 
that  scene  ?  There,  in  the  saintly  stillness  of  the  summer  night, 
where  the  deep,  o'ershadowing  heavens  preached  a  sermon  of 
peace,  there  I  was  loaded  with  contumely,  bound  hand  and  foot 
in  irons,  with  jeering  faces  around,  vulgar  eyes  glaring  on  my 
uncovered  body,  and  two  inhuman  men  about  to  lash  me  to  the 
bone. 

The  first  lick  from  Mr.  Peterkin  laid  my  back  open.  I  writhed, 
I  wrestled  ;  but  blow  after  blow  descended,  each  harder  than 
the  preceding  one.  I  shrieked,  I  screamed,  I  pleaded,  I  prayed, 
but  there  was  no  mercy  shown  me.  Mr.  Peterkin  having  fully 
gratified  and  quenched  his  spleen,  turned  to  Mr.  Jones,  and 
said,  "  Now  is  yer  turn ;  you  can  beat  her  as  much  as  you 


.50  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

please,  only  jist  leave  a  bit  o'  life  in  her,  is  all  I  cares 
for." 

"Yes  ;  I'll  not  spile  her  for  the  market ;  but  I  does  want  to 
take  a  little  of  the  cl d  pride  out  of  her." 

u  Now,  boys" — for  by  this  time  all  the  slaves  on  the  place, 
save  Aunt  Polly,  bad  assembled  round  tbe  post — "  you  will  see 
what  a  true  stroke  I  ken  make  ;  but  darn  my  buttons  if  I 
doesn't  think  Mr.  Peterkin  has  drawn  all  the  blood." 

So  saying,  Jones  drew  back  the  cow-hide  at  arm's  length, 
and,  making  a  few  evolutions  with  his  body,  took  what  he  called 
''  sure  aim."  I  closed  my  eyes  in  terror.  More  from  the  ter- 
rible pain,  than  from  the  frantic  shoutings  of  the  crowd,  I  knew 
that  Mr.  Jones  had  given  a  lick  that  he  called  "  true  blue." 
The  exultation  of  the  negroes  in  Master  Jones'  triumph  was 
scarcely  audible  to  my  ears;  for  a  cold,  clammy  sensation  was 
stealing  over  my  frame ;  my  breath  was  growing  feebler  and 
feebler,  and  a  soft  melody,  as  of  lulling  summer  fountains,  was 
gently  sounding  in  my  ears ;  and,  as  if  gliding  away  on  a  moon- 
beam, I  passed  from  all  consciousness  of  pain.  A  sweet  oblivion, 
like  that  sleep  which  announces  to  the  wearied,  fever-sick  patient, 
that  his  hour  of  rest  has  come,  fell  upon  me  !  It  was  not  a 
dreamful  sensibility,  filled  with  the  chaos  of  fragmentary  vis- 
ions, but  a  rest  where  the  mind,  nay,  the  very  soul,  seemed  to 
sleep  with  the  body. 

How  long  this  stupor  lasted  I  am  unable  to  say ;  but  when 
I  awoke,  I  was  lying  on  a  rough  bed,  a  face  dark,  haggard, 
scarred  and  worn,  was  bending  over  me.  Disfigured  as  was  that 
visage,  it  was  pleasant  to  me,  for  it  was  human.  I  opened  my 
eyes,  then  closed  them  languidly,  re-opened  them,  then  closed 
them  again. 

"  Now,  chile,  I  thinks  you  is  a  leetle  better,"  said  the  dark- 
faced  woman,  whom  I  recognized  as  Aunt  Polly ;  but  I  was 
too  weak,  too  wandering  in  mind,  to  talk,  and  I  closed  my  eyes 
and  slept  again. 


CHAP  TEE  VI. 

RESTORED     CONSCIOUSNESS — AUNT     POLLY'S     ACCOUNT     OF     MY 

MIRACULOUS    RETURN  TO    LIFE THE    MASTER'S  AFFRAY  WITH 

THE    OVERSEER. 

When  I  awoke  (for  I  was  afterwards  told  by  my  good  nurse 
that  I  had  slept  four  clays),  I  was  lying  on  the  same  rude  bed ; 
but  a  cool,  clear  sensation  overspread  my  system.  I  had  full 
and  active  possession  of  my  mental  faculties.  I  rose  and  sat 
upright  in  the  bed,  and  looked  around  -me.  It  was  the  deep 
hour  of  night.  A  little  iron  lamp  was  upon  the  hearth,  and, 
for  want  of  a  supply  of  oil,  the  wick  was  burning  low,  flinging 
a  red  glare  through  the  dismal  room.  Upon  a  broken  stool  sat 
Aunt  Polly,  her  head  resting  upon  her  breast,  in  what  nurses 
call  a  "  stolen  nap."  Amy  and  three  other  children  were  sleep- 
ing in  a  bed  opposite  me. 

In  a  few  moments  I  was  able  to  recall  the  whole  of  the 
scenes  through  which  I  had  passed,  while  consciousness  re- 
mained ;  and  I  raised  my  eyes  to  God  in  gratitude  for  my  par- 
tial deliverance  from  pain  and  suffering.  Very  softly  I  stole 
from  my  bed,  and,  wrapping  an  old  coverlet  round  my  shoul- 
ders, opened  the  door,  and  looked  out  upon  the  clear,  star-light 
night.  Of  the  vague  thoughts  that  passed  through  my  mind  I 
will,  not  now  speak,  though  they  were  far  from  pleasant  or  con- 
solatory. 

The  fresh  night  air,  which  began  to  have  a  touch  of  the 
frost  of  the  advancing  autumn,  blew  cheerily  in  the  room,  and 
it  fell  with  an  awakening  power  upon   the  brow  of  Aunt  Polly. 

"  Law,  chile,  is  dat  you  stannin'  in  de  dor  ?  What  for  you 
git  up  out  en  yer  warm  bed,  and  go  stand  in  the  night-ar  1 

"  Because  I  feel  so  well,  and  this  pleasant  air  seems  to  brace 
my  frame,  and  encourage  my  mind." 

[511 


52  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  But  sure  you  had  better  take  to  your  bed  again  ;  you  hab 
bad  a  mighty  bad  time  ob  it.'' 

"How  long  have  I  been  sick?  It  all  seems  to  me  like  a 
horrible  dream,  from  which  I  have  been  suddenly  and  pleas- 
antly aroused." 

As  I  said  this,  Aunt  Polly  drew  me  from  the  door,  and  clos- 
ing it,  she  bade  me  go  to  bed. 

'''No,  indeed,  I  cannot  sleep.  I  feel  wide  awake,  and  if  I 
only  had  some  one  to  talk  to  me,  I  could  sit  up  all  night." 

"Well,  bress  your  heart,  I'll  talk  wid  you  smack,  till  de 
rise  ob  day,"  she  said,  in  such  a  kind,  good-natured  tone,  that  I 
was  surprised,  for  I  had  regarded  her  only  as  an  ill-natured, 
miserable  beldame. 

Seating  myself  on  a  ricketty  stool  beside  her,  I  prepared  for 
a  long  conversation. 

"  Tell  me  what  has  happened  since  I  have  been  sick  ?"  I 
said.  "  Where  are  Miss  Jane  and  Matilda  %  and  where  is  the 
young  gentleman  who  supped  with  them  on  that  awful 
night  V 

"  Bress  you,  honey,  but  'twas  an  awful  night.  Dis  ole  nig- 
ger will  neber  forget  it  long  as  she  libs;"  and  she  bent  her 
head  upon  her  poor  old  worn  hands,  and  by  the  pale,  blue  flick- 
er of  the  lamp,  I  could  discern  the  rapidly-falling  tears. 

''  What,"  thought  I,  "  and  this  hardened,  wretched  old  wo- 
man can  weep  for  me  !  Her  heart  is  not  all  ossified  if  she  can 
forget  her  own  bitter  troubles,  and  weep  for  mine." 

This  knowledge  was  painful,  and  yet  joyful  to  me.  Who  of 
us  can  refuse  sympathy  ?  Who  does  not  want  it,  no  matter  at 
what  costly  price  1  Does  it  not  seem  like  dividing  the  burden, 
when  we  know  that  there  is  another  who  will  weep  for  us  ? 
I  threw  my  arms  round  Aunt  Polly.  I  tightly  strained  that 
decayed  and  revolting  form  to  my  breast,  and  I  inly  prayed 
that  some  young  heart  might  thus  rapturously  go  forth,  in 
blessings  to  my  mother.  This  evidence  of  affection  did  not 
surprise  Aunt  Polly,  nor  did  she  return  my  embrace  ,•  but  a 
deep,  hollow  sigh,  burst  from  her  full  heart,  and  I  knew  that 


AUNT    POLLY'S    ACCOUNT.  53 

memory  was  far  away — that,  in  fancy,  she  was  with  her 
children,  her  loved  and  lost. 

"  Come,  now,"  said  I,  soothingly,  "  tell  me  all  about  it.  How 
did  I  suffer?  What  was  done  for  me?  Where  is  master1?" 
and  I  shuddered,  as  I  mentioned  the  name  of  my  horrible  per- 
secutor. 

"  Oh,  chile,  when  Masser  Jones  was  done  a-beatin'  ob  yer, 
dey  all  ob  'em  tought  you  was  dead ;  den  Masser  got  orful 
skeard.  He  cussed  and  swore,  and  shook  his  fist  in  de 
oberseer's  face,  and  sed  he  had  kilt  you,  and  dat  he  was  gwine 
to  law  wid  him  'bout  de  'struction  ob  his  property.  Den  Masser 
Jones  be  swar  a  mighty  heap,  and  tell  Masser  he  dar'  him  to  go 
to  law  'bout  it.  Den  Miss  Jane  and  Tilda  kum  out,  and  com- 
menced cryin',  and  fell  to  'busin'  Masser  Jones,  kase  Miss  Jane 
say  she  want  to  go  to  de  big  town,  and  take  you  long  wid  her 
fur  lady's  maid.  Den  Mr.  Jones  fell  to  busen  ob  her,  and  den 
Masser  and  him  clinched,  and  fought,  and  fought  like  two  big 
black  dogs.  Den  Masser  Jones  sticked  his  great  big  knife  in 
Masser's  side,  and  Masser  fell  down,  and  den  we  all  tought  he 
was  clar  gone.  Den  away  Maser  Jones  did  run,  and  nobody 
dared  take  arter  him,  for  he  had  a  loaded  pistol  and  a  big 
knife.  Den  we  all  on  us,  de  men  and  wimmin  folks  both,  grab- 
bed up  Masser,  and  lifted  him  in  de  house,  and  put  him  on 
de  bed.  Den  Jake,  he  started  off  fur  de  doctor,  while  Miss 
Jane  and  Tilda  'gan  to  fix  Masser's  cut  side.  Law,  bress  your 
heart,  but  thar  he  laid  wid  his  big  form  stretched  out  just  as 
helpless  as  a  baby.  His  face  was  as  white  as  a  ghost,  and  his 
eyes  shot  right  tight  up.  Law  bress  you,  but  I  tought  his  time 
hab  kum  den.  Well,  Lindy  and  de  oder  wimmin  was  a  helpin1 
ob  Miss  Jane  and  Tildy,  so  I  jist  tought  I  would  go  and  look 
arter  yer  body.  Thar  you  was,  still  tied  to  de  post,  all  kivered 
with  blood.  I  was  mighty 'feared  ob  you;  but  den  I  tought 
you  had  been  so  perlite,  and  speaked  so  kind  to  me,  dat  I 
would  take  kare  ob  yer  body  ;  so  I  tuck  you  down,  and  went 
wid  you  to  de  horse-trough,  and  dere  I  poured  some  cold 
water  ober  yer,  so  as  to  wash  away  de  clotted  blood.      Den  de 


54  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

cold  water  sorter  'vived  you,  and  yer  cried  out  'oh,  me  !'  Wal 
dat  did  skeer  me,  and  I  let  you  drap  right  down  in  de  trough, 
and  de  way  dis  nigger  did  run,  fur  de  life  oh  her.  "Well,  as  I 
git  back  I  met  Jake,  who  had  kum  back  wid  de  doctor,  and  I 
cried  out,  '  Oh  Jake,  de  spirit  ob  Ann  done  speaked  to  me  !' 
'Now,  Polly,'  says  he,  'do  hush  your  nonsense,  you  does 
know  dat  Ann  is  done  cold  dead.'  'Well  Jake,'  says  I. '  I  tuck 
her  down  frum  de  post,  and  tuck  her  to  the  trough  to  wash  her, 
and  tought  I'd  fix  de  body  out  right  nice,  in  de  best  close  dat 
she  had.  Well,  jist  as  I  got  de  water  on  it,  somping  hollowed 
out,  'oh  me  !'  so  mournful  like,  dat  it  'peared  to  me  it  kum  out 
ob  de  ground. 

"  '  What  fur  den  you  do  V  says  Jake.  'Why,  to  be  sure,  I  lef 
it  right  dar,  and  run  as  fas'  as  my  feet  would  carry  me.' 

"  By  dis  time  de  house  was  full  ob  de  neighbors  ;  all  hab  col- 
lected in  de  house,  fur  de  news  dat  Masser  was  kilt  jist  fly 
trough  de  neighborhood.  Miss  Bradly  beam  in  de  house  'bout 
de  'raculous  'pearance  ob  de  sperit,  and  she  kum  up  to  me,  and 
gay  '  Polly,  whar  is  de  body  of  Ann  V  '  Laws,  Miss  Bradly,  it 
is  out  in  de  trough,  I  won't  go  agin  nigh  to  it.' 

"  '  Well,'  say  she, '  where  is  Jake  ?  let  him  kum  along  wid  me.' 

"  '  What,  you  ain't  gwine  nigh  it  ?'  I  asked. 

"  'Yes  I  is  gwine  right  up  to  it,'  she  say,  '  kase  I  knows  thar 
is  life  in  it.'  Well  this  sorter  holpd  me  up,  so  I  said,  '  well  I'll 
go  too.'  So  we  tuck  Jake,  and  Miss  Bradly  walked  long  wid 
us  to  de  berry  spot,  and  dar  you  wus  a  settin  up  in  de  water  ob 
de  trough  where  I  seed  you ;  it  skeered  me  worse  den  eber,  so 
I  fell  right  down  on  de  ground,  and  began  to  pray  to  de  Lord  to 
hab  marcy  on  us  all;  but  Miss  Bradly  (she  is  a  quare  woman) 
walked  right  up  to  you,  and  spoke  to  you. 

"  '  Laws,'  saj's  Jake,  '  jist  hear  dat  ar'  woman  talking  wid  a 
sperit,'  and  down  he  fell,  and  went  to  callin  on  de  Angel  Ga- 
briel to  kum  and  holp  him. 

"  Fust  ting  I  knowed,  Miss  Bradly  was  a  rollin'  her  shawl  round 
yer  body,  and  axed  you  to  walk  out  ob  de  trough. 

"  Well,  tinks  I,  dese  am  quare  times  when  a  stone-dead  nigger 


MY   SWOON    AND    RECOVERY.  55 

gits  up  and  walks  agin  like  a  live  one.  Well,  widcrat  any  kelp 
from  us,  Miss  Bradly  led  you  'long  into  dis  cabin.  I  followed 
arter.  After  while  she  kind  o'  'suaded  me  you  was  a  livin'.  Den 
I  helped  her  wash  you,  and  got  her  some  goose-greese,  and  we 
rubbed  you  all  ober,  from  your  head  to  yer  feet,  and  den  you 
kind  ob  fainted  away,  and  I  began  to  run  off ;  but  Miss  Bradly 
say  you  only  swoon,  and  she  tuck  a  little  glass  vial  out  ob  her 
pocket,  and  held  it  to  yer  nose,  and  dis  bring  you  to  agin. 
After  while  you  fell  off  to  sleep,  and  Miss  Bradly  bringed  de 
Doctor  out  ob  de  house  to  look  at  you.  Well,  he  feel  ob  yer 
wrist,  put  his  ear  down  to  yer  breast,  den  say,  '  may  be  wid 
care  she  will  git  well,  but  she  hab  been  powerful  bad  treated.' 
He  shuck  his  head,  and  I  knowed  what  he  was  tinkin'  'bout,  but 
I  neber  say  one  word.  Den  Miss  Bradly  wiped  her  eyes,  and 
de  Doctor  fetch  anoder  sigh,  and  say,  dis  is  very  'stressing,' 
and  Miss  Bradly  say  somepin  agin  '  slavery,'  and  de  Doctor 
open  ob  his  eyes  right  wide  and  say,  '  'tis  worth  your  head,  Miss, 
for  to  say  dat  in  dis  here  country.'  Den  she  kind  of  'splained 
it  to  him,  and  tings  just  seemed  square  'twixt  'em,  for  she  was 
monstrous  skeered  like,  and  turned  white  as  a  sheet.  Den  I 
hearn  de  Doctor  say  sompin'  'bout  ridin'  on  a  rail,  and  tar  and 
feaders,  and  abolutionist.  So  arter  dat,  Miss  Bradly  went  into 
de  house,  arter  she  had  bin  a  tellin'  ob  me  to  nurse  you  well ; 
dat  you  was  way  off  hare  from  yer  mammy,  so  eber  sence  den 
you  has  bin  a  lying  right  dar  on  dat  bed,  and  I  hab  nursed  you 
as  if  you  war  my  own  child." 

I  threw  my  arms  around  her  again,  and  imprinted  kisses  upon 
her  rugged  brow  ;  for,  though  her  skin  was  sooty  and  her  face 
worn  with  care,  I  believed  that  somewhere  in  a  silent  corner  of 
her  tried  heart  there  was  a  ray  of  warm,  loving,  human  feeling. 

"  Oh,  child,"  she  begun,  "  can  you  wid  yer  pretty  yallow  face 
kiss  an  old  pitch-black  nigger  like  me?" 

"  Why,  yes,  Aunt  Polly,  and  love  you  too  ;  if  your  face  is  dark 
I  am  sure  your  heart  is  fair." 

"Well,  I  doesn't  know  'bout  dat,  chile  ;  once  'twas  far,  but  I 
tink  all  de  white  man  done  made  it  black  as  my  face." 


56  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Oh  no,  I  can't  believe  that,  Aunt  Polly,''  I  replied. 

"  Wal,  I  always  hab  said  dat  if  dey  Avould  cut  my  finger  and 
cut  a  white  woman's,  dey  would  find  de  blood  ob  de  very  same 
color,"  and  the  old  woman  laughed  exultingly. 

"Yes,  but,  Aunt  Polly,  if  you  were  to  go  before  a  magistrate 
with  a  case  to  be  decided,  he  would  give  it  against  you,  no 
matter  how  just  were  your  claims.'' 

'*  To  be  sartin,  de  white  folks  allers  gwine  to  do  every  ting  in 
favor  ob  dar  own  color." 

"  But,  Aunt  Polly,"  interposed  I,  "  there  is  a  God  above,  who 
disregards  color." 

"  Sure  dare  is,  and  dar  we  will  all  ob  us  git  our  dues,  and 
den  de  white  folks  will  roast  in  de  flames  ob  old  Nick." 

I  saw,  from  a  furtive  flash  of  her  eye,  that  all  the  malignity 
and  revenge  of  her  outraged  nature  were  becoming  excited,  and 
I  endeavored  to  change  the  conversation. 

"  Is  master  getting  well  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  chile,  de  debbil  can't  kill  him.  He  is  'termined 
to  live  jist  as  long  as  dare  is  a  nigger  to  torment.  All  de  time 
he  was  crazy  wid  de  fever,  he  was  fightin'  wid  de  niggers  — 
'pears  like  he  don't  dream  'bout  nothin'  else." 

''  Does  he  sit  up  now  ?'"  1  asked  this  question  with  trepida- 
tion, for  I  really  dreaded  to  see  him. 

"  No,  he  can't  set  up  none.  De  doctor  say  he  lost  a  power  o' 
blood,  and  he  won't  let  him  eat  meat  or  anyting  strong,  and  I 
tells  you,  honey,  Masser  does  swar  a  heap.  He  wants  to 
smoke  his  pipe,  and  to  hab  his  reglar  grog,  and  dey  won't  gib  it 
to  him.  It  do  take  Jim  and  Jake  bofe  to  hold  him  in  de  bed, 
when  his  tantarums  comes  on.  He  fights  dem,  he  calls  for  de 
oberseer,  he  orders  dat  ebery  nigger  on  de  place  shall  be  tuck 
to  de  post.  I  tells  you  now,  I  makes  haste  to  git  out  ob  his 
way.  He  struck  Jake  a  lick  dat  kum  mighty  nigh  puttin*  out 
his  eye.     It's  all  bunged  up  now." 

"  Where  did  Mr.  Somerville  go  V  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  de  young  gemman  dat  dey  say  is  a  courtin'  Miss  Jane. 
he  hab  gone  back  to  de  big  town  what  he  kum  from ;  but  Lindy 


A    NEW    FEAR.  57 

say  Miss  Jane  got  a  great  long  letter  from  hirn,  and  Lindy  say 
she  tink  Miss  Jane  gwine  to  marry  him." 

"  "Well,  I  helong  to  Miss  Jane ;  I  wonder  if  she  will  take  me 
with  her  to  the  town." 

"  Why,  yes,  chile,  she  will,  for  she  do  believe  in  niggers. 
She  wants  'em  all  de  time  right  by  her  side,  a  waitin'  on  her." 

This  thought  set  me  to  speculating.  Here,  then,  was  the 
prospect  of  another  change  in  my  home.  The  change  might 
be  auspicious  ;  but  it  would  take  me  away  from  Aunt  Polly, 
and  remove  me  from  Miss  Bradly's  influence ;  and  this  I 
dreaded,  for  she  had  planted  hopes  in  my  breast,  which  must 
blossom,  though  at  a  distant  season,  and  I  wished  to  be  often 
in  her  company,  so  that  I  might  gain  many  important  items 
from  her. 

Aunt  Polly,  observing  me  unusually  thoughtful,  argued  that 
I  was  sleepy,  and  insisted  upon  my  returning  to  bed.  In 
order  to  avoid  further  conversation,  and  preserve,  unbroken, 
the  thread  of  my  reflections,  I  obeyed  her. 

Throwing  myself  carelessly  upon  the  rough  pallet,  I  wan- 
dered in  fancy  until  leaden-winged  sleep  overcame  me. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 
amy's  narrative,  and  her  philosophy  of  a  future  state. 

When  the  golden  sun  had  begun  to  tinge  with  light  the  dis- 
tant tree-tops,  and  the  young  birds  to  chant  their  matin  hymn, 
I  awoke  from  my  profound  sleep.  "Wearily  I  moved  upon  my 
pillow,  for  though  my  slumber  had  been  deep  and  sweet,  yet 
now,  upon  awaking,  I  experienced  no  refreshment. 

Rising  up  in  the  bed,  and  supporting  myself  upon  my  elbow, 
I  looked  round  in  quest  of  Aunt  Polly  ;  but  then  I  remembered 
that  she  had  to  be  about  the  breakfast.  Amy  was  sitting  on 
the  floor,  endeavoring  to  arrange  the  clothes  on  a  little  toddler, 
her  orphan  brother,  over  whom  she  exercised  a  sort  of  ma- 
ternal care.  She,  her  two  sisters,  and  infant  brother,  were  the 
orphans  of  a  woman  who  had  once  belonged  to  a  brother  of 
Mr.  Peterkin.  Their  orphanage  had  not  fallen  upon  them  from 
the  ghastly  fingers  of  death,  but  from  the  far  more  cruel  and 
cold  mandate  of  human  cupidity.  A  fair,  even  liberal  price 
had  been  offered  their  owner  for  their  mother,  Dilsy,  and  such 
a  speculation  was  not  to  be  resigned  upon  the  score  of  philan- 
thropy. No,  the  man  who  would  refuse  nine  hundred  dollars 
for  a  negro  woman,  upon  the  plea  that  she  had  three  young 
children  and  a  helpless  infant,  from  whom  she  must  not  be  sepa- 
rated, would,  in -Kentucky,  be  pronounced  insane ;  and  I  can 
assure  you  that,  on  this  subject,  the  brave  Kentuckians  had 
good  right  to  decide,  according  to  their  code,  that  Elijah  Peter- 
kin  was  compos  mentis. 

"  Amy,"  said  I,  as  I  rubbed  my  eyes,  to  dissipate  the  film 
and  mists  of  sleep,  "  is  it  very  late  %  have  you  heard  the  horn 
blow  for  the  hands  to  come  in  from  work1?" 

[58] 


TALK    WITH    AMY.  59 

"No,  the  hab  not  hearn  it  yet,  but  laws,  Ann,  me  did  tink 
you  would  neber  talk  no  more." 

"  But  you  see  I  am  talking  now,"  and  1  could  not  resist  a 
smile  ;    "  have  you  been  nursing  me  V 

"  No,  indeed,  Aunt  Polly  wouldn't  let  me  come  nigh  yer 
bed,  and  she  keep  all  de  time  washing  your  body  and  den  rub- 
bin'  it  wid  a  feader  an'  goose-greese.  Oh,  you  did  lay  here  so 
still,  jist  like  somebody  dead.  Aunt  Polly,  she  wouldn't  let  one 
ob  us  speak  one  word,  sed  it  would  'sturb  you  ;  but  I  knowed 
you  wasn't  gwine  to  kere,  so  ebery  time  she  went  out,  I  jist 
laughed  and  talked  as  much  as  I  want." 

"  But  did  you  not  want  me  to  get  well,  Amy  ?" 

"Why,  sartin  I  did  ;  but  my  laughin'  want  gwine  to  kill  you. 
was  it  ?"     She  looked  up  with  a  queer,  roguish  smile, 

"  No,  but  it  might  have  increased  my  fever." 

"  "Well,  if  you  had  died,  I  would  hab  got  yer  close,  now  you 
knows  you  promised  'em  to  me.  So  when  I  hearn  Jake  say 
you  was  dead,  I  run  and  got  yer  new  calico  dress,  and  dat  rib- 
bon what  Miss  Jane  gib  you,  an'  put  dcm  in  my  box  ;  den  arter 
while  Aunt  Polly  say  you  done  kum  back  to  life ;  so  I  neber 
say  notin'  more,  I  jist  tuck  de  close  and  put  dem  back  in  yer 
box,  and  tink  to  myself,  well,  maybe  I  will  git  'em  some  oder 
time." 

It  amused  me  not  a  little  to  find  that  upon  mere  suspicion  of 
my  demise,  this  little  negro  had  levied  upon  my  wardrobe,  which 
was  scanty  indeed  ;  but  so  it  is,  be  we  ever  so  humble  or 
poor,  there  is  always  some  one  to  regard  us  with  a  covetous 
eye.  My  little  paraphernalia  was,  to  this  half-savage  child,  a 
rich  and  wondrous  possession. 

"  Here,  hold  up  yer  foot,  Ben,  or  you  shan't  hab  any  meat 
fur  breakus."  This  threat  was  addressed  to  her  young  brother, 
whom  she  nursed  like  a  baby,  and  whose  tiny  foot  seemed  to 
resist  the  restraint  of  a  shoe. 

I  looked  long  at  them,  and  mused  with  a  strange  sorrow  upon 
their  probable  destiny.  Bitter  I  knew  it  must  be.  For,  where 
is  there,  beneath  the  broad  sweep  of  the  majestic  heavens,  a 


60         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OP  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

single  one  of  the  dusky  tribe  of  Ethiopia  who  has  not  felt  that 
existence  was  to  him  far  more  a  curse  than  a  blessing  1  You, 
oh,  my  taAvny  brothers,  who  read  these  tear-stained  pages,  ask 
your  own  hearts,  which,  perhaps,  now  ache  almost  to  bursting, 
ask,  I  say,  your  own  vulture-torn  hearts,  if  life  is  not  a  hard, 
hard  burden  1  Have  you  not  oftentimes  prayed  to  the  All- 
Merciful  to  sever  the  mystic  tie  that  bound  you  here,  to  loosen 
your  chains  and  set  you,  soul  and  body,  free  ?  Have  you  not, 
from  the  broken  chinks  of  your  lonely  cabins  at  night,  looked 
forth  upon  the  free  heavens,  and  murmured  at  your  fate  ?  Is 
there,  oh  !  slave,  in  your  heart  a  single  pleasant  memory  ?  Do 
you  not,  captive-husband,  recollect  with  choking  pride  how  the 
wife  of  your  bosom  has  been  cruelly  lashed  while  you  dared  not 
say  one  word  in  her  defence  ?  Have  you  not  seen  your  chil- 
dren, precious  pledges  of  undying  love,  ruthlessly  torn  from  you, 
bound  hand  and  foot  and  sold  like  dogs  in  the  slave  market, 
while  you  dared  not  offer  a  single  remonstrance  ?  Has  not 
every  social  and  moral  feeling  been  outraged  ?  Is  it  not  the 
white  man's  policy  to  degrade  your  race,  thereby  finding  an 
argument  to  favor  the  perpetuation  of  Slavery  ]  Is  there  for 
us  one  thing  to  sweeten  bondage  ?  Free  African  !  in  the  brave 
old  States  of.  the  North,  where  the  shackles  of  slavery  exist 
not,  to  you  I  call.  Noble  defenders  of  Abolition,  you  whoso 
earnest  eyes  may  scan  these  pages,  I  call  to  you  with  a  tearful 
voice  ;  I  pray  you  to  go  on  in  your  glorious  cause  ;  flag  not, 
faint  not,  prosecute  it  before  heaven  and  against  man.  Fling  out 
your  banners  and  march  on  to  the  defence  of  the  suffering  ones 
at  the  South.  And  you,  oh  my  heart-broken  sisters,  toiling  be- 
neath a  tropic  .sun,  wearing  out  your  lives  in  the  service  of 
tyrants,  to  you^I  say,  hope  and  pray  still  !  Trust  in  God  I 
He  is  mighty  and  willing  to  save,  and,  in  an  hour  that  you 
know  not  of,  he  will  roll  the  stone  away  from  the  portal  of 
your  hearts.  My  prayers  are  with  you  and  for  you.  I  have 
come  up  from  the  same  tribulation,  and  I  vow,  by  the  scars  and 
wounds  upon  my  flesh,  never  to  forgot  your  cause.     Would  that 


amy's  mother.  61 

my  tears,  "which  freely  flow  for  yon,  had  power  to  dissolve  the 
fetters  of  your  wasting  bondage. 

Thoughts  like  these,  though  with  more  vagueness  and  less 
form,  passed  through  my  brain  as  I  looked  upon  those  poor 
little  outcast  children,  and  I  must  be  excused  for  thus  making, 
regardless  of  the  usual  etiquette  of  authors,  an  appeal  to  the 
hearts  of  my  free  friends.  Never  once  do  I  wish  them  to  lose 
sight  of  the  noble  cause  to  which  they  have  lent  the  influence 
of  their  names.  I  am  but  a  poor,  unlearned  woman,  whose 
heart  is  in  her  cause,  and  I  should  be  untrue  to  the  motive 
which  induced  me  to  chronicle  the  dark  passages  in  my  woe- 
worn  life  if  I  did  not  urge  and  importune  the  Apostles  of  Abo- 
lition to  move  forward  and  onward  in  their  march  of  reform. 

"  Come,  Amy,  near  to  my  bed,  and  talk  a  little  with  me." 

"  I  wants  to  git  some  bread  fust." 

"  You  are  always  hungry,"  I  pettishly  replied. 

"  No,  I  isn't,  but  den,  Ann,  I  neber  does  git  enuf  to  eat  here. 
Now,  we  use  to  hab  more  at  Mas'  Lijah's." 

"  Was  he  a  good  master  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No,  he  wasn't ;  but  den  mammy  used  to  gib  us  nice  tings 
to  eat.  She  buyed  it  from  de  store,  and  she  let  us  hab  plenty 
ob  it." 

"  Where  is  your  mammy  ?" 

"  She  bin  sold  down  de  ribber  to  a  trader,"  and  there  was  a 
quiver  in  the  child's  voice. 

"  Did  she  want  to  go  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  No,  she  cried  a  heap,  and  tell  Masser  she  wouldn't  mind  it 
if  he  would  let  her  take  us  chilen  ;  but  Masser  s'ay  no,  he 
wouldn't.  Den  she  axed  him  please  to  let  her  hab  little  Ben, 
any  how.  Masser  cussed,  and  said,  Well,  she  might  hab  Ben, 
as  he  was  too  little  to  be  ob  any  sarvice ;  den  she  'peared  so 
glad  and  got  him  all  ready  to  take  ;  but  when  de  trader  kum  to 
take  her  away,  he  say  he  wouldn't  'low  her  to  take  Ben,  kase 
he  couldn't  sell  her  fur  as  much,  if  she  hab  a  baby  wid  her ; 
den,  oh  den,  how  poor  mammy  did  cry  and  beg  ;  but  de  trader 
tuck  his  cowhide  and  whipped  her  so  hard  she  hab  to  stop  cryin' 


62  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

or  beggin'.  Den  she  kum  to  me  and  make  me  promise  to  take 
good  care  ob  Ben,  to  nurse  bim  and  tend  on  him  as  long  as  I 
staid  whar  he  was.  Den  she  knelt  down  in  de  corner  of  her 
cabin  and  prayed  to  God  to  take  care  ob  us,  all  de  days  of  our 
life ;  den  she  kissed  us  all  and  squeezed  us  tight,  and  when  she 
tuck  little  Ben  in  her  arms  it  'peared  like  her  heart  would 
break.  De  water  from  her  eyes  wet  Ben's  apron  right  ringing 
wet,  jist  like  it  had  come  out  ob  a  washing  tub.  Den  de  trader 
called  to  her  to  come  along,  and  den  she  gib  dis  to  me,  and  told 
me  dat  ebery  time  I  looked  at  it,  I  must  tink  of  my  poor  mam- 
my dat  was  sold  down  de  ribber,  and  'member  my  promise  to 
her  'bout  my  little  brudder." 

Here  the  child  exhibited  a  bored  five-cent  piece,  which  she 
wore  suspended  by  a  black  string  around  her  neck. 

"  De  chilen  has  tried  many  times  to  git  it  away  frum  me  ;  but 
I's  allers  beat  'em  off;  and  whenever  Miss  Tildy  wants  me  fur 
to  mind  her,  she  says,  '  Now,  Amy,  I'll  jist  take  yer  mammy's 
present  from  yer  if  yer  doesn't  do  what  I  bids  yer ;'  den  de  way 
dis  here  chile  does  work  isn't  slow,  I  ken  tell  yer,"  and  with 
her  characteristic  gesture  she  run  her  tongue  out  at  the  corner 
of  her  mouth  in  an  oblique  manner,  and  suddenly  withdrew  it, 
as  though  it  had  passed  over  a  scathing  iron. 

"  Could  anything  induce  you  to  part  with  it  ?"  I  asked. 

She  rolled  her  eyes  up  with  a  look  of  wonderment,  and 
replied,  half  ferociously,  "  Gracious  !  no — why,  hasn't  I  bin 
whipped,  'bused  and  treed ;  still  I'd  hold  fast  to  this.  No  mor- 
tal ken  take  it  frum  me.  You  may  kill  me  in  Avelcome,"  and 
the  child  shook  her  head  with  a  philosophical  air,  as  she  said, 
"  and  I  don't  kere  much,  so  mammy's  chilen  dies  along  wid  me, 
fur  I  didn't  see  no  use  in  our  livin'  eny  how.  I's  done  got  my 
full  shere  ob  beatin'  an'  we  haint  no  use  on  dis  here  airth — so  I 
jist  wants  fur  to  die." 

I  looked  upon  her,  so  uncared  for,  so  forlorn  in  her  condition, 
and  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  blame  her  for  the  wish, 
erring  and  rebellious  as  it  must  appear  to  the  Christian.  "What 
had  she  to  live  for  ?    To  those  little  children,  the  sacred  bequests 


amy's  idea  of  heaven.  ^63 

of  her  mother,  she  was  no  protection ;  for,  even  had  she  heen 
capable  of  extending  to  them  all  the  guidance  and  watchfulness, 
both  of  soul  and  body,  which  their  delicate  and  immature  na- 
tures required,  there  was  every  probability,  nay,  there  was  a 
certainty,  that  this  duty  would  be  denied  her.  She  could  not 
hope,  at  best,  to  live  with  them  more  than  a  few  years.  They 
were  but  cattle,  chattels,  property,  subject  to  the  will  and  pleas- 
ure of  their  owners.  There  would  speedily  come  a  time  when 
a  division  must  take  place  in  the  estate,  and  that  division  would 
necessarily  cause  a  separation  and  rupture  of  family  ties.  What 
wonder  then,  that  this  poor  ignorant  child  sighed  for  the  calm, 
unfearing,  unbroken  rest  of  the  grave  ?  She  dreamed  not  of  a 
'*  more  heyond  ;"  she  thought  her  soul  mortal,  even  as  her  hody; 
and  had  she  heen  told  that  there  was  for  her  a  world,  even  a 
blessed  one,  to  succeed  death,  she  would  have  shuddered  and 
feared  to  cross  the  threshold  of  the  grave.  She  thought  anni- 
hilation the  greatest,  the  only  blessing  awaiting  her.  The 
idea  of  another  life  would  have  Drought  with  it  visions  of  a 
new  master  and  protracted  slavery.  Freedom  and  equality  of 
souls,  irrespective  of  color,  was  too  transcendental  and  chimerical 
an  idea  to  take  root  in  her  practical  brain.  Many  times  had 
she  heard  her  master  declare  that  "  niggers  were  jist  like  dogs, 
laid  down  and  died,  and  nothin'  come  of  them  afterwards." 
His  philosophy  could  have  proposed  nothing  more  delightful  to 
her  ease-coveting  mind. 

Some  weeks  afterwards,  when  I  was  trying  to  teach  her  the 
doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  she  broke  forth  in  an 
idiotic  laugh,  as  she  said,  '*  oh,  no,  dat  gold  city  what  dey  sings 
'bout  in  hymns,  will  do  fur  de  white  folks  ;  but  nothin'  eber 
comes  of  niggers  ;  dey  jist  dies  and  rots." 

"  Who  do  you  think  made  negroes  ?"  I  inquired. 

Looking  up  with  a  meaning  grin,  she  said,  "  White  folks 
made  'em  fur  der  own  use,  I  'spect." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?" 

"  Kase  white  folks  ken  kill  'em  when  dey  pleases ;  so  I  'spose 
dey  make  'em." 


64  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

This  was  a  species  of  reasoning  which,  for  a  moment,  con- 
founded my  logic.  Seeing  that  I  lacked  a  ready  reply,  she 
went  on  : 

"  Yes,  you  see,  Ann,  we  hab  no  use  wid  -a  soul.  De  white 
folks  won't  hab  any  work  to  hab  done  up  dere,  and  so  dey 
won't  hab  no  use  fur  niggers." 

"  Doesn't  this  make  you  miserable  ?" 

"  What  ?"  she  asked,  with  amazement. 

"  This  thought  of  dying,  and  rotting  like  the  vilest  worm." 

"  No,  indeed,  it  makes  me  glad  ;  fur  den  I'll  not  hab  anybody 
to  beat  me  ;  knock,  kick,  and  cuff  me  'bout,  like  dey  does  now." 

"  Poor  child,  happier  far,"  I  thought,  "  in  your  ignorance, 
than  I,  with  all  the  weight  of  fearful  responsibility  that  my 
little  knowledge  entails  upon  me.  On  you,  God  will  look  with 
a  more  pitying  eye  than  upon  me,  to  whom  he  has  delegated 
the  stewardship  of  two  talents." 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

TALK  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE — THREATS — THE  NEW  BEAU — LINDY. 

Several  days  had  elapsed  since  the  morning  conversation 
with  Amy ;  meanwhile  matters  were  jogging  along  in  their 
usually  dull  way.  Of  late,  since  the  flight  of  Mr.  Jones,  and 
the  illness  of  Mr.  Peterkin,  there  had  been  considerably  less 
fighting ;  but  the  ladies  made  innumerable  threats  of  what  they 
would  do,  when  their  father  should  be  well  enough  to  allow  a 
suspension  of  nursing  duties. 

My  wounds  had  rapidly  healed,  and  I  had  resumed  my  former 
position  in  the  discharge  of  household  duties.  Lindy,  my  old 
assistant,  still  held  her  place.  I  always  had  an  aversion  to  her. 
There  was  that  about  her  entire  physique  which  made  her 
odious  to  me.  A  certain  laxity  of  the  muscles  and  joints  of 
her  frame,  which  produced  a  floundering,  shuffling  sort  of  gait 
that  was  peculiarly  disagreeable,  a  narrow,  soulless  countenance, 
an  oblique  leer  of  the  eye  where  an  ambushed  fiend  seemed  to 
lurk,  full,  voluptuous  lips,  lengthy  chin,  and  expanded  nostril, 
combined  to  prove  her  very  low  in  the  scale  of  animals.  She 
had  a  kind  of  dare-devil  courage,  which  seemed  to  brave  a  great 
deal,  and  yet  she  shrank  from  everything  like  punishment. 
There  was  a  union  of  degrading  passions  in  her  character.  I 
doubt  if  the  lowest  realm  of  hades  contained  a  baser  spirit. 
This  girl,  I  felt  assured  from  the  first  time  I  beheld  her,  was 
destined  to  be  my  evil  genius.  I  felt  that  the  baleful  comet 
that  presided  over  her  birth,  would  in  his  reckless  and  madden- 
ing course,  rush  too  near  the  little  star  which,  through  cloud 
and  shadow,  beamed  on  my  destiny. 

She  was  not  without  a  certain  kind  of  sprightliness  that  passed 
for  intelligence  ;  and  she  could  by  her  adroitness  of  manoeuvre 

[65] 


66  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

amble  out  of  any  difficulty.  With  a  good  education  she  would 
have  made  an  excellent  female  pettifogger.  She  had  all  of  the 
quickness  and  diablerie  usually  summed  up  in  that  most  ex- 
pressive American  word,  ''smartness." 

I  was  a  good  deal  vexed  and  grieved  to  find  myself  again  a 
partner  of  hers  in  the  discharge  of  my  duties.  It  seemed  to 
open  my  Avounds  afresh  ;  for  I  remembered  that  her  falsehood 
had  gained  me  the  severe  castigation  that  had  almost  deprived 
me  of  life ;  and  her  laugh  and  jibe  had  rendered  my  suffering 
at  the  accursed  post  even  more  humiliating.  Yet  I  knew  better 
than  to  offer  a  demurrer  to  any  arrangement  that  my  mistress 
had  made. 

One  day  as  I  was  preparing  to  set  the  table  for  the  noon 
meal,  Lindy  came  to  me  and  whispered,  in  an  under-tone,  "You 
finish  the  table,  I  am  going  out  ;  and  if  Miss  Jane  or  Tildy  axes 
where  I  is,  say  dat  I  went  to  de  kitchen  to  wash  a  dish." 

"Very  well,"  I  replied  in  my  usual  laconic  style,  and  went 
on  about  my  work.  It  was  well  for  her  that  she  had  observed 
this  precaution ;  for  in  a  few  moments  Miss  Tildy  came  in,  and 
her  first  question  was  for  Lindy.  I  answered  as  I  had  been 
desired  to  do.  The  reply  appeared  to  satisfy  her,  and  with  the 
injunction  (one  she  never  failed  to  give),  that  I  should  do  my 
work  well  and  briskly,  she  left  the  room. 

After  I  had  arranged  the  table  to  my  satisfaction,  I  went  to 
the  kitchen  to  assist  Aunt  Polly  in  dishing  up  dinner. 

When  I  reached  the  kitchen  I  found  Aunt  Polly  in  a  great 
quandary.  The  fire  was  not  brisk  enough  to  brown  her  bread, 
and  she  dared  not  send  it  to  the  table  without  its  being  as 
beautifully  brown  as  a  student's  meditations. 

"  Oh,  child,"  she  began,  "  do  run  somewhar  and  git  me  a 
scrap  or  so  of  dry  wood,  so  as  to  raise  a  smart  little  blaze  to 
brown  dis  bread." 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  and  off  I  bounded  in  quest  of  the  combus- 
tible material.  Of  late  Aunt  Polly  and  I  had  become  as 
devoted  as  mother  and  child.  'Tis  true  there  was  a  deep  yearn- 
ing in  my  heart,  a  thirst  for  intercommunion  of  soul,  which  this 


THE    NEW   FRIEND.  67 

untutored  negress  could  not  supply.  She  did  not  answer, 
with  a  thrilling  response,  to  the  deep  cry  which  my  spirit  sent 
out ;  yet  she  was  kind,  and  even  affectionate,  to  me.  Usually 
harsh  to  others,  with  me  she  was  gentle  as  a  lamb.  With  a 
thousand  little  motherly  acts  she  won  my  heart,  and  I  strove, 
hy  assiduous  kindness,  to  make  her  forget  that  I  was  not  her 
daughter.  I  started  off  with  great  alacrity  in  search  of  the  dry 
wood,  and  remembered  that  on  the  day  previous  I  had  seen 
some  barrel  staves  lying  near  an  out-house,  and  these  I  knew 
would  quickly  ignite.  When  rapidly  turning  the  corner  of 
the  stable,  I  was  surprised  to  see  Lincly  standing  in  close  and 
apparently  free  conversation  with  a  strange-looking  white  man. 
The  sound  of  my  rapid  footsteps  startled  them ;  and  upon 
seeing  me,  the  man  walked  off  hastily.  With  a  fluttering,  ex- 
cited manner,  Lindy  came  up  and  said  : 

"  Don't  say  nothing  'bout  haven'  seed  me  wid  dat  ar'  gem- 
man  ;  fur  he  used  to  be  my  mars'er,  and  a  good  one  he  was 
too." 

I  promised  that  I  would  say  nothing  about  the  matter,  but 
first  I  inquired  what  was  the  nature  of  the  private  interview. 

"  Oh,  he  jist  wanted  fur  to  see  me,  and  know  how  I  was 
gitten'  long. 

I  said  no  more ;  but  I  was  not  satisfied  with  her  explanation. 
I  resolved  to  watch  her  narrowly,  and  ferret  out,  if  possible,  this 
seeming  mystery.  Upon  my  return  to  the  kitchen,  with  my 
bundle  of  dry  sticks,  I  related  what  I  had  seen  to  Aunt  Polly. 

"  Dat  gal  is  arter  sompen  not  very  good,  you  mark  my  words 
fur  it." 

"  Oh,  maybe  not,  Aunt  Polly,"  I  answered,  though  with  a 
conviction  that  I  was  speaking  at  variance  with  the  strong  prob- 
abilities of  the  case. 

I  hurried  in  the  viands  and  meats  for  the  table,  and  was  not 
surprised  to  find  Lindy  unusually  obliging,  for  I  understood  the 
object.  There  was  an  abashed  air  a.nd  maimer  which  argued 
guilt,  or  at  least,  that  she  was  the  mistress  of  a  secret,  for  the 
entire  possession  of  which  she  trembled.     Sundry  little  acts  of 


68  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

unaccustomed  kindness  she  offered  me,  but  I  quietly  declined 
them.  I  did  not  desire  that  she  should  insult  my  honor  by  the 
offer  of  a  tacit  bribe. 

In  the  evening,  when  I  was  arranging  Miss  Jane's  hair  (this 
was  my  especial  duty),  she  surprised  me  by  asking,  in  a  care- 
less and  incautious  manner  : 

"  Ann,  what  is  the  matter  with  Lindy  ?  she  has  such  an  ex- 
cited manner." 

"  I  really  don't  know,  Miss  Jane  ;  I  have  not  observed  any- 
thing very  unusual  in  her." 

"  Well,  I  have,  and  I  shall  speak  to  her  about  it.  Oh,  there  ! 
slow,  girl,  slow  ;  you  pulled  my  hair.  Don't  do  it  again.  You 
niggers  have  become  so  unruly  since  pa's  sickness,  that  if  we 
don't  soon  get  another  overseer,  there  will  be  no  living  for  you. 
There  is  Lindy  in  the  sulks,  simply  because  she  wants  a  whip- 
ping, and  old  Polly  hasn't  given  us  a  meal  fit  to  eat." 

"  Have  I  done  anything,  Miss  Jane  ?"  I  asked  with  a  mis- 
giving. 

"  No,  nothing  in  particular,  except  showing  a  general  and 
continued  sullenness.  Now,  I  do  despise  to  see  a  nigger  always 
sour-looking ;  and  I  can  tell  you,  Ann,  you  must  change  your 
ways,  or  it  will  be  worse  for  you." 

"  I  try  to  be  cheerful,  Miss  Jane,  but — "  here  I  wisely  checked 
myself." 

"  Try  to  be,"  she  echoed  with  a  satirical  tone.  ''  What  do 
you  mean  by  trying  ?  You  don't  dare  to  say  you  are  not  happy 
here  ?" 

Finding  that  I  made  no  reply,  she  said,  "If  you  don't  cut 
your  cards  squarely,  you  will  find  yourself  down  the  river 
before  long,  and  there  you  are  only  half-clad  and  half-fed,  and 
flogged  every  day."  Still  I  made  no  reply.  I  knew  that  if  I 
spoke  truthfully,  and  as  my  heart  prompted,  it  would  only 
redound  to  my  misery.  What  right  had  I  to  speak  of  my 
mother.  She  was  no  more  than  an  animal,  and  as  destitute  of 
the  refinement  of  common  human  feeling — so  I  forbore  to  allude 
to  her,  or  my  great  desire  to  see  her.    I  dared  not  speak  of  the 


SILENT    COMPLAINTS.  69 

horrible  manner  in  which  my  body  had  been  cut  and  slashed, 
the  half-lifeless  condition  in  which  I  had  been  taken  from  the 
accursed  post,  and  all  for  a  fault  which  was  not  mine.  These 
were  things  which,  as  they  were  done  by  my  master's  com- 
mands, were  nothing  more  than  right ;  so  with  an  effort,  I  con- 
trolled my  emotion,  and  checked  the  big  tears  which  I  felt 
were  rushing  up  to  my  eyes. 

When  I  had  put  the  finishing"  stroke  to  Miss  Jane's  hair,  and 
whilst  she  was  surveying  herself  in  a  large  French  mirror, 
Miss  Bradly  came  in.  Tossing  her  bonnet  off,  she  kissed  Miss 
Jane  very  affectionately,  nodded  to  me,  and  asked, 

"  Where  is  Tildy  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  somewhere  about  the  house,  I  suppose,"  re- 
plied Miss  Jane. 

"  Well,  I  have  a  new  beau  for  her  ;  now  it  will  be  a  fine 
chance  for  Tildy.  I  would  have  recommended  you ;  but, 
knowing  of  your  previous  engagement,  I  thought  it  best  to  refer 
him  to  the  fair  Matilda." 

Miss  Jane  laughed,  and  answered,  that  "  though  she  was  en- 
gaged, she  would  have  no  objections  to  trying  her  charms  upon 
another  beau." 

There  was  a  strange  expression  upon  Miss  Bradly's  face,  and 
a  flurried,  excited  manner,  very  different  from  her  usually  quiet 
demeanor. 

Miss  Jane  went  about  the  room  collecting,  here  and  there,  a 
stray  pocket  handkerchief,  under-sleeve,  or  chemisette ;  and. 
dashing  them  toward  me,  she  said, 

"  Put  these  in  wash,  and  do,  pray,  Ann,  try  to  look  more 
cheerful.  Now,  Miss  Emily,"  she  added,  addressing  Miss  Bradly, 
"  we  have  the  worst  servants  in  the  world.  There  is  Lindy,  I 
believe  the  d — 1  is  in  her.  She  is  so  strange  in  her  actions.  I 
have  to  repeat  a  thing  three  or  four  times  before  she  will  under- 
stand  me  ;  and,  as  for  Ann,  she  look*  so  sullen  that  it  gives 
one  the  horrors  to  see  her.  I've  a  notion  to  bring  Amy  into 
the  house.  In  the  kitchen  she  is  of  no  earthly  service,  and 
doesn't  earn  her  salt.     I  think  I'll  persuade  pa  to  sell  some  of 


70  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

tliese  worthless  niggers.  They  are  no  profit,  and  a  terrible  ex- 
pense." Thereupon  she  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
Miss  Tilcly,  whose  face  was  unusually  excited.  She  did  not 
perceive  Miss  Bradly,  and  so  broke  forth  in  a  torrent  of  invec- 
tives against  "  niggers." 

"  I  hate  them.  I  wish  this  place  were  rid  of  every  black 
face.  Now  we  can't  find  that  wretched  Liudy  anywhere,  high 
nor  low.  Let  me  once  get  hold  of  her,  and  I'll  be  bound  she 
shall  remember  it  to  the  day  of  her  death.  Oh  !  Miss  Bradly, 
is  that  you  1  pray  excuse  me  for  not  recognizing  you  sooner ; 
but  since  pa's  sickness,  these  wretched  negroes  have  half-taken 
the  place,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  were  to  forget  my- 
self," and  with  a  kiss  she  seemed  to  think  she  had  atoned  to 
Miss  Bradly  for  her  forgetfulness. 

To  all  of  this  Miss  B.  made  no  reply,  I  fancied  (perhaps  it 
was  only  fancy)  that  there  was  a  shade  of  discontent  upon  her 
face  ;  but  she  still  preserved  her  silence,  and  Miss  Tildy  waxed 
warmer  and  warmer  in  her  denunciation  of  ungrateful  "  nig- 
gers." 

"  Now,  here,  ours  have  every  wish  gratified  ;  are  treated  well, 
fed  well,  clothed  well,  and  yet  we  can't  get  work  enough  out 
of  them  to  justify  us  in  retaining  our  present  number.  As  soon 
as  pa  gets  well  I  intend  to  urge  upon  him  the  necessity  of  sell- 
ing some  of  them.  It  is  really  too  outrageous  for  us  to  be  keep- 
ing such  a  number  of  the  worthless  wretches  ;  actually  eating 
us  out  of  house  and  home.  Besides,  our  family  expenses  are 
rapidly  increasing.  Brother  must  be  sent  off  to  college.  It 
will  not  do  to  have  his  education  neglected.  I  really  am  be- 
coming quite  ashamed  of  his  want  of  preparation  for  a  profes- 
sion. I  wish  him  sent  to  Yale,  after  first  receiving  a  prepara- 
tory course  in  some  less  noted  seminary, — then  he  will  require 
a  handsome  outfit  of  books,  and  a  wardrobe  inferior  to  none  at 
the  institution ;  for,  Miss  Emily,  I  am  determined  our  family 
shall  have  a  position  in  every  circle."  As  Miss  Tildy  pronounced 
these  words,  she  stamped  her  foot  in  the  most  emphatic  way,  as 
if  to  confirm  and  ratify  her  determination. 


THE  EXPENSE  OF  SLAVES.  71 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Jane,  "I  was  just  telling  Miss  Emily  of 
our  plans  ;  and  I  think  we  may  as  well  bring  Amy  in  the 
house.  She  is  of  no  account  in  the  kitchen,  and  Lindy,  Ginsy, 
and  those  brats,  can  be  sold  for  a  very  pretty  sum  if  taken  to 

the  city  of  L ,  and  put  upon  the  block,  or  disposed  of  to 

some  wealthy  trader." 

"What  children?"  asked  Miss  Bradly. 

"  Why,  Amy's  two  sisters  and  brother,  and  Ginsy's  child, 
and  Ginsy  too,  if  pa  will  let  her  go." 

My  heart  ached  well-nigh  to  bursting,  when  I  heard  this. 
Poor,  poor  Amy,  child- sufferer !  another  drop  of  gall  added  to 
thy  draught  of  wormwood — another  thorn  added  to  thy  wear- 
ing crown.     Oh,  God  !  how  I  shuddered  for  the  victim. 

Miss  Jane  went  on  in  her  usual  heartless  tone.  "  It  is  ex- 
pensive to  keep  them  ;  they  are  no  account,  no  profit  to  us  ;  and 
young  niggers  are  my  'special  aversion.  I  have,  for  a  long 
time,  intended  separating  Amy  from  her  two  little  sisters  ;  she 
doesn't  do  anything  but  nurse  that  sickly  child,  Ben,  and  it  is 
scandalous.  You  see,  Miss  Emily,  we  want  an  arbor  erected 
in  the  yard,  and  a  conservatory,  and  some  new-style  table 
furniture." 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  a  set  of  jewels,  and  a  good  many  addi- 
tions to  my  wardrobe,  and  Jane  wishes  to  spend  a  winter  in 
the  city.     She  will  be  forced  to  have  a  suitable  outfit." 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  going  to  have  everything  I  Avant,  if  the 
farm  is  to  be  sold,"  said  Miss  Jane,  in  a  voice  that  no  one 
dared  to  gainsay. 

"  But  come,  let  me  tell  you,  Tildy,  about  the  new  beau  I 
have  for  you,';  said  Miss  Bradly. 

Instantly  Miss  Tildy's  eyes  began  to  glisten.  The  word 
"  beau  "  was  the  ready  ''  sesame  "  to  her  good  humor. 

"  Oh,  now,  dear,  good  Miss  Emily,  tell  me  something  about 
him.    Who  is  he  ?  where  from?"  &c. 

Miss  Bradly  smiled,  coaxingly  and  lovingly,  as  she  answered  : 

"Well,  Tildy,  darling,  I  have  a  friend  from  the  North,  who 
is  travelling  for  pleasure  through  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi ; 


72  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

and  I  promised  to  introduce  him  to  some  of  the  pretty  ladies  of 
the  West ;  so,  of  course,  I  feel  pride  in  introducing  my  two 
pupils  to  him." 

This  was  a  most  agreeable  sedative  to  their  ill-nature  ;  and 
both  sisters  came  close  to  Miss  Bradly,  fairly  covering  her  with 
caresses,  and  addressing  to  her  words  of  flattery. 

As  soon  as  my  services  were  dispensed  with  I  repaired  to 
the  kitchen,  where  I  found  Aunt  Polly  in  no  very  good  or 
amiable  mood.  Something  had  gone  wrong  about  the  arrange- 
ments for  supper.  The  chicken  was  not  brown  enough,  or  the 
cakes  were  heavy;  something  troubled  her,  and  as  a  necessary 
consequence  her  temper  was  suffering. 

"  I's  in  an  orful  humor,  Ann,  so  jist  don't  come  nigh  me." 

"  Well,  but,  Aunt  Polly,  we  should  learn  to  control  these 
humors.  They  are  not  the  dictates  of  a  pure  spirit ;  they  are 
unchristian." 

''  Oh,  laws,  chile,  what  hab  us  to  do  do  wid  der  Christians  ? 
We  are  like  dem  poor  headens  what  de  preachers  prays  'bout. 
We  haint  got  no  'sponsibility,  no  more  den  de  dogs." 

"  I  don't  think  that  way,  Aunt  Polly ;  I  think  I  am  as  much 
bound  to  do  my  duty,  and  expect  a  reward  at  the  hands  of  my 
Maker,  as  any  white  person." 

''  Oh,  'taint  no  use  of  talkin'  dat  ar'  way,  kase  ebery  body 
knows  niggers  ain't  gwine  to  de  same  place  whar  clar  massers 
goes." 

I  dared  not  confront  her  obstinacy  with  any  argument ;  for 
I  knew  she  was  unwilling  to  believe.  Poor,  apathetic  creature  ! 
she  was  happier  in  yielding  up  her  soul  to  the  keeping  of  her 
owner,  than  she  would  have  been  in  guiding  it  herself.  This 
to  me  would  have  been  enslavement  indeed ;  such  as  I  could 
not  have  endured.  He,  my  Creator,  who  gave  me  this  heritage 
of  thought,  and  the  bounty  of  Hope,  gave  me,  likewise,  a  strong, 
unbridled  will,  which  nothing  can  conquer.  The  whip  may 
bring  my  body  into  subjection,  but  the  free,  free  spirit  soars 
where  it  lists,  and  no  man  can  check  it.  God  is  with  the  soul ! 
aye,  in  it,  animating  and  encouraging  it,  sustaining  it  amid  the 


THE    BLESSING    OF   NIGHT.  73 

crash,  conflict,  and  the  elemental  war  of  passion  !  The  poor, 
weak  flesh  may  yield;  but,  thanks  to  God !  the  soul,  well- 
girded  and  heaven-poised,  will  never  shrink. 

Many  and  long  have  been  the  unslumbering  nights  when  I 
have  lain  upon  my  heap  of  straw,  gazing  at  the  pallid  moon, 
and  the  sorrowful  stars  ;  weaving  mystic  fancies  as  the  wailing 
night-wind  seemed  to  bring  me  a  message  from  the  distant  and 
the  lost !  I  have  felt  whole  vials  of  heavenly  unction  poured 
upon  my  bruised  soul ;  rich  gifts  have  descended,  like  the  manna 
of  old,  upon  my  famishing  spirit ;  and  I  have  felt  that  God  was 
nearer  to  me  in  the  night  time.  I  have  imagined  that  the  very 
atmosphere  grew  luminous  with  the  presence  of  angelic  hosts ; 
and  a  strange  music,  audible  alone  to  my  ears,  has  lulled  me 
to  the  gentlest  of  dreams  !  God  be  thanked  for  the  night,  the 
stars,  and  the  spirit's  vision !  Joy  came  not  to  me  with  the 
breaking  of  the  morn ;  but  peace,  undefined,  enwrapped  me 
when  the  mantle  of  darkness  and  the  crown  of  stars  attested 
the  reign  of  Night ! 

I  grieved  to  think  that  my  poor  friend,  this  old,  lonely  negress, 
had  nothing  to  soothe  and  charm  her  wearied  heart.  There 
was  not  a  single  flower  blooming  up  amid  the  rank  weeds  of 
her  nature.  Hard  and  rocky  it  seemed  ;  yet  had  I  found  the 
prophet's  wand,  whereby  to  strike  the  flinty  heart,  and  draw 
forth  living  waters !  pure,  genial  draughts  of  kindliness,  sweet 
honey-drops,  hived  away  in  the  lonely  cells  of  her  eaverned 
soul  !  I  would  have  loved  to  give  her  a  portion  of  that  peace 
which  radiated  with  its  divine  light  the  depths  of  my  inmost 
spirit.  I  had  come  to  her  now  for  the  purpose  of  giving  her 
the  sad  intelligence  that  awaited  poor  Amy  ;  but  I  did  not 
find  her  in  a  suitable  mood.  I  felt  assured  that  her  harshness 
would,  in  some  way  or  other,  jar  the  finer  and  more  sensitive 
harmonies  of  my  nature.  Perhaps  she  would  say  that  she  did 
not  care  for  the  sufferings  of  the  poor,  lonely  child ;  and  that 
her  bereavement  would  be  nothing  more  than  just ;  yet  I  knew 
that  she  did  not  feel  thus.  Deep  in  her  secret  soul  there  lay 
folded  a  white-winged  angel,  even  as  the  uncomely  bulb  envel- 


74  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

opes  the  fair  petals  of  the  lily;  and  I  longed  for  the  summer, 
warmth  of  kindness  to  bid  it  come  forth  and  bloom  in  beauty. 

But  now  I  turned  away  from  her,  murmuring,  "  'Tis  not  the 
time."  She  would  not  open  her  heart,  and  my  own  must  like- 
wise be  closed  and  silent ;  but  when  I  met  poor  little  Amy, 
looking  so  neglected,  with  scarcely  apparel  sufficient  to  cover 
her  nudity,  my  heart  failed  me  utterly.  There  she  held  upon 
her  hip  little  Ben,  her  only  joy  ;  every  now  and  then  she 
addressed  some  admonitory  words  to  him,  such  as  '*  Hush,  baby, 
love,"  "you's  my  baby,"  "  sissy  loves  it,"  and  similar  expressions 
of  coaxing  and  endearment.  And  this,  her  only  comfort,  was 
about  to  be  wrenched  from  her.  The  only  link  of  love  that 
bound  her  to  a  weary  existence,  was  to  be  severed  by  the  harsh 
mandate  of  another.  Just  God !  is  this  right  ?  Oh,  my  soul, 
be  thou  still  !  Look  on  in  patience  !  The  cloud  deepens  above  ! 
The  day  of  God's  wrath  is  at  hand  !  They  who  have  coldly 
forbidden  our  indulging  the  sweet  humanities  of  life,  who  have 
destroyed  every  social  relation,  severed  kith  and  kin,  ruptured 
the  ties  of  blood,  and  left  us  more  lonely  than  the  beasts  of  the 
forest,  may  tremble  when  the  avenger  comes  ! 

I  ventured  to  speak  with  Amy,  and  I  employed  the  kindest 
tone ;  but  ever  and  anon  little  Ben  would  send  forth  such  a 
piteous  wail,  that  I  feared  he  was  in  physical  pain.  Amy, 
however,  very  earnestly  assured  me  that  she  had  administered 
catnip  tea  in  plentiful  quantities,  and  had  examined  his  person 
very  carefully  to  discover  if  a  pin  or  needle  had  punctured  his 
flesh  ;  but  everything  seemed  perfectly  right. 

I  attempted  to  take  him  in  my  arms ;  but  he  clung  so  vigor- 
ously to  Amy's  shoulder,  that  it  required  strength  to  unfasten 
his  grasp. 

"  Oh,  don'tee  take  him ;  he  doesn't  like  fur  to  leab  me. 
Him  usen  to  me,"  cried  Amy,  as  in  a  motherly  way  she 
caressed  him.  "  Now,  pretty  little  boy  donee  cry  any  more- 
Ann  shan't  hab  you  ; — now  be  a  good  nice  boy  ;"  and  thus  she 
expended  upon  him  her  whole  vocabulary  of  endearing  epithets. 

"  Who  could,"  I  asked  myself,  "  have  the  heart  to  untie  this 


THE    SLAVE-MOTHER.  75 

sweet  fraternal  bond  ?  Who  could  dry  up  the  only  fountain  in 
this  benighted  soul  ?  Oh,  I  have  often  marvelled  how  the  white 
mother,  who  knows,  in  such  perfection,  the  binding  beauty  of 
maternal  love,  can  look  unsyrnpathizmgly  on,  and  see  the  poor 
black  parent  torn  away  from  her  children.  I  once  saw  a  white 
lady,  of  conceded  refinement,,  sitting  in  the  portico  of  her  own  house, 
with  her  youngest  born,  a  babe  of  some  seven  months,  dallying 
on  her  knee,  and  she  toying  with  the  pretty  gold-threads  of 
its  silken  hair,  whilst  her  husband  was  in  the  kitchen,  with  a 
whip  in  his  hand,  severely  lashing  a  negro  woman,  whom  he 
had  sold  to  a  trader — lashing  her  because  she  refused  to  go 
cheerfully  and  leave  her  infant  behind.  The  poor  wretch,  as  a 
last  resource,  fled  to  her  Mistress,  and,  on  her  knees,  begged  her 
to  have  her  child.  "  Oh,  Mistress,"  cried  the  frantic  black  woman, 
"  ask  Master  to  let  me  take  my  baby  with  me."  What  think 
you  was  the  answer  of  this  white  mother  ? 

"  Go  away,  you  impudent  wretch,  you  don't  deserve  to  have 
your  child.  It  will  be  better  off  away  from  you!"  Aye, 
this  was  the  answer  which,  accompanied  by  a  derisive  sneer, 
she  gave  to  the  heart-stricken  black  mother.  Thus  she  felt, 
spoke,  and  acted,  even  whilst  caressing  her  own  helpless  infant ! 
Who  would  think  it  injustice  to  "  commend  the  poison-chalice 
to  her  own  lips"  ?  She,  this  fine  lady,  Avas  known  to  weep 
violently,  because  an  Irish  woman  was  unable  to  save  a  suffi- 
ciency of  money  from  her  earnings  to  bring  her  son  from  Ireland 
to  America ;  but,  for  the  African  mother,  who  was  parting 
eternally  from  her  helpless  babe,  she  had  not  so  much  as  a 
consolatory  word.  Oh,  ye  of  the  proud  Caucasian  race,  would 
that  your  hearts  were  as  fair  and  spotless  as  your  complexions ! 
Truly  can  the  Saviour  say  of  you,  "  Oh,  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem, 
I  would  have  gathered  you  together  as  a  hen  gathereth  her 
chickens,  but  ye  would  not  !"  Oh,  perverse  generation  of  vipers, 
how  long  will  you  abuse  the  Divine  forbearance  ! 


CHAPTEE    IX. 

LINDY'S    BOLDNESS — A    SUSPICION — THE     MASTER'S    ACCOUNTA- 
BILITY  THE     YOUNG     REFORMER WORDS     OF     HOPE THE 

CULTIVATED    MULATTO THE    DAWN    OF    AMBITION. 

In  about  an  hour  Lincly  came  in,  looking  very  much  excited, 
yet  attempting  to  conceal  it  beneath  the  mask  of  calmness.  I 
affected  not  to  notice  it,  yet  was  it  evident,  from  various  little 
attentions  and  manifold  kind  words,  that  she  sought  to  divert 
suspicion,  and  avoid  all  questioning  as  to  her  absence. 

"  Where,"  she  asked  me,  "  are  the  young  ladies?  have  they 
company  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  Miss  Bradly  is  with  them,  and  they  are 
expecting  a  young  gentleman,  an  acquaintance  of  Miss  B.'s." 

"  Who  is  he  ?" 

"  Wby,  Lindy,  how  should  I  know  ?" 

''  I  thought  maybe  you  hearn  his  name." 

''No,  I  did  not,  and,  even  if  I  had,  it  would  have  been  so  un- 
important to  me  that  I  should  have  forgotten  it." 

She  opened  her  eyes  with  a  vacant  stare,  but  it  was  percepti- 
ble that  she  wandered  in  thought. 

"  Now,  Lindy,"  I  began,  "  Miss  Jane  has  missed  you  from  the 
house,  and  both  she  and  Miss  Tildy  have  sworn  vengeance 
against  you." 

"  So  have  I  sworn  it  agin'  them." 

"  What !  what  did  you  say,  Lindy  ?" 

Really  I  was  surprised  at  the  girl's  hardihood  and  boldness. 
She  had  been  thrown  from  her  guard,  and  now,  upon  regaining 
her  composure,  was  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  I  was  only  joking,  Ann  ;  you  knows  we  allers  jokes." 

"  I  never  do,"  I  said,  with  emphasis. 

f76] 


THE    FRIGHT.  77 

"  Yes,  but  den,  Ann,  you  see  you  is  one  ob  de  quare  uns." 

"  What  do  yoti  mean  by  quare  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  psha,  'taint  no  use  ob  talkin  wid  you,  for  you  is  good  ; 
but  kum,  tell  me,  is  dey  mad  wid  me  in  de  house,  and  did  dey 
say  dey  would  beat  me  ?" 

"  Well,  they  threatened  something  of  the  kind." 

Her  face  grew  ashen  pale  ;  it  took  that  peculiar  kind  of  pal- 
lor which  the  negro's  face  often  assumes  under  the  influence  of 
fear  or  disease,  and  which  is  so  disagreeable  to  look  upon. 
Enemy  of  mine  as  she  had  deeply  proven  herself  to  be,  I  could 
not  be  guilty  of  the  meanness  of  exulting  in  her  trouble. 

"  But,"  she  said,  in  an  imploring  tone,  ''  you  will  not  repeat 
what  I  jist  said  in  fun." 

"  Of  course  I  will  not ;  but  don't  you  remember  that  it  was 
your  falsehood  that  gained  for  me  the  only  post-whipping 
that  I  ever  had  V 

"  Yes  ;  but  den  I  is  berry  sorry  fur  dat,  and  will  not  do  it 
any  more." 

This  was  enough  for  me.  An  acknowledgment  of  contrition, 
and  a  determination  to  do  better,  are  all  God  requires  of  the 
offender ;  and  shall  poor,  erring  mortals  demand  more  ?  No ; 
my  resentment  was  fully  satisfied.  Besides,  I  felt  that  this 
poor  creature  was  not  altogether  blamable.  None  of  her  bet- 
ter feelings  had  been  cultivated ;  they  were  strangled  in  their 
incipiency,  whilst  her  savage  instincts  were  left  to  run  riot. 
Thus  the  bad  had  ripened  into  a  full  and  noxious  development, 
whilst  the  noble  had  been  crushed  in  the  bud.  Who  is  to  be 
answerable  for  the  short-comings  of  such  a  soul  1  Surely  he 
who  has  cut  it  off  from  all  moral  and  mental  culture,  and  has 
said  to  the  glimmerings  of  its  faint  intellect,  ''  Back,  back  to  the 
depths  of  darkness  !"  Surely  he  will  and  must  take  upon  him- 
self the  burden  of  accountability.  The  sin  is  at  his  door,  and 
woe-worth  the  day,  when  the  great  Judge  shall  come  to  pass  sen- 
tence upon  him.  I  have  often  thought  that  the  master  of  slaves 
must,  for  consistency's  sake,  be  an  infidel — or  doubt  man's 
exact  accountability  to  God  for  the  deeds  done  in  the  body  ; 


78  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

for  how  can  lie  willingly  assume  the  sins  of  some  hundreds 
of  souls  ?  In  the  eye  of  human  law,  the  slave  has  no  responsi- 
bility ;  the  master  assumes  all  for  him.  If  the  slave  is  found 
guilty  of  a  capital  offence,  punishable  with  death,  the  master  is 
indemnified  by  a  paid  valuation,  for  yielding  up  the  person  of 
the  slave  to  the  demands  of  offended  jiistice  1  If  a  slave  earns 
money  by  his  labors  at  night  or  holidays,  or  if  he  is  the  suc- 
cessful holder  of  a  prize  ticket  in  a  lottery,  his  master  can  le- 
gally claim  the  money,  and  there  is  no  power  to  gainsay  him  ? 
If,  then,  human  law  recognizes  a  negro  as  irresponsible,  how 
much  more  lenient  and  just  will  be  the  divine  statute  1  Thus, 
I  hold  (and  I  cannot  think  there  is  just  logician,  theologian,  or 
metaphysician,  who  will  dissent),  that  the  owner  of  slaves  be- 
comes sponsor  to  Grod  for  the  sins  of  his  slave ;  and  I  cannot, 
then,  think  that  one  who  accredits  the  existence  of  a  just  God, 
a  Supreme  Ruler,  to  whom  we  are  all  responsible  for  our  deeds 
and  words,  would  willingly  take  upon  himself  the  burden  of 
other  people's  faults  and  transgressions. 

Whilst  I  stood  talking  with  Lindy,  the  sound  of  merry 
laughter  reached  our  ears. 

"  Oh,  dat  is  Miss  Tildy,  now  is  my  time  to  go  in,  and  see 
what  dey  will  say  to  me;  maybe  while  dey  is  in  a  good  humor, 
dey  will  not  beat  me." 

And,  thus  saying,  Lindy  hurried  away.  Sad  thoughts  were 
crowding  in  my  mind.  Dark  misgivings  were  stirring  in  my 
brain.  Again  I  thought  of  the  blessed  society,  with  its  hu- 
manitarian hope  and  aim,  that  dwelt  afar  off  in  the  north.  I 
longed  to  ask  Miss  Bradly  more  about  it.  I  longed  to  hear  of 
those  holy  men,  blessed  prophets  foretelling  a  millennial  era  for 
my  poor,  down-trodden  and  despised  race.  I  longed  to  ask 
questions  of  her ;  but  of  late  she  had  shunned  me  ;  she  scarcely 
spoke  to  me  ;  and  when  she  did  speak,  it  was  with  indifference, 
and  a  degree  of  coldness  that  she  had   never  before  assumed. 

With  these  thoughts  in  my  mind  I  stole  along  through  the 
yard,  until  I  stood  almost  directly  under  the  window  of  the 
parlor.     Something  in  the  tone  of  a  strange  voice  that  reached 


WORDS    OF    HOPE    AND    LIFE.  79 

my  ear,  riveted  my  attention.  It  was  a  low,  manly  tone,  lute- 
like, yet  swelling  on  the  breeze,  and  charming  the  soul !  It 
refreshed  my  senses  like  a  draught  of  cooling  water.  I  caught 
the  tone,  and  could  not  move  from  the  spot.      I  was  transfixed. 

''I  do  not  see  why  Fred  Douglas  is  not  equal  to  the  best 
man  in  the  land.  What  constitutes  worth  of  character?  What 
makes  the  man  ?  What  gives  elevation  to  him  ?"  These  were 
the  words  I  first  distinctly  heard,  spoken  in  a  deep,  earnest  tone, 
which  I  have  never  forgotten.  I  then  heard  a  silly  laugh,  which 
I  readily  recognized  as  Miss  Jane's,  as  she  answered,  "You 
can't  pretend  to  say  that  yon  would  be  willing  for  a  sister  of 
yours  to  marry  Fred  Douglas,  accomplished  as  you  consider 
him  ?" 

''  I  did  not  speak  of  marrying  at  all ;  and  might  I  not  be  an 
advocate  of  universal  liberty,  without  believing  in  amalgamation? 
Yet,  it  is  a  question  whether  even  amalgamation  should  be  for- 
bidden by  law.  The  negro  is  a  different  race ;  but  I  do  not 
know  that  they  have  other  than  human  feelings  and  emotions. 
The  negroes  are,  with  us,  the  direct  descendants  from  the  great 
progenitor  of  the  human  family,  old  Adam.  They  may,  when 
fitted  by  education,  even  transcend  us  in  the  refinements  and 
graces  which  adorn  civilized  character.  In  loftiness  of  purpose, 
in  mental  culture,  in  genius,  in  urbanity,  in  the  exercise  of 
manly  virtues,  such  as  fortitude,  courage,  and  philanthropy,  where 
will  you  show  me  a  man  that  excels  Fred  Douglas  ?  And  must 
the  mere  fact  of  his  tawny  complexion  exclude  him  from  the  pale 
of  that  society  which  he  is  so  eminently  fitted  to  grace  ?  Might 
I  not  (if  it  were  made  a  question)  prefer  uniting  my  sister's  fate 
with  such  a  man,  even  though  partially  black,  to  seeing  her 
tied  to  a  low  fellow,  a  wine-bibber,  a  swearer,  a  villain, 
who  possessed  not  one  cubit  of  the  stature  of  true  manhood,  yet 
had  a  complexion  white  as  snow  ?  Ah,  Miss,  it  is  not  the  skin 
which  gives  us  time  value  as  men  and  women  ;  'tis  the  mo- 
mentum of  mind  and  the  purity  of  morals,  the  integrity  of  pur- 
pose and  nobility  of  soul,  that  make  our  place  in  the  scale  of 
being;.     I  care  not  if  the  skin  be  black  as  Erebus  or  fair  and 


80  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

smooth  as  satin,  so  the  heart  and  mind  be  right.  I  do  not  deal 
in  externals  or  care  for  surfaces." 

These  words  were  as  the  bread  of  life  to  me.  I  could 
scarcely  resist  the  temptation  to  leave  my  hiding-place  and  look 
in  at  the  open  window,  to  get  sight  of  the  speaker;  surely,  I 
thought,  he  must  wear  the  robes  of  a  prophet.  I  could  not 
very  distinctly  hear  what  Miss  Jane  said  in  reply.  I  could  catch 
many  words,  such  as  "  nigger"  and  "  marry"  "  white  lady,"  and 
other  expressions  used  in  an  expostulatory  voice ;  but  the  plati- 
tudes which  she  employed  would  not  have  answered  the  demand 
of  my  higher  reason.  Old  perversions  and  misinterpretations  of 
portions  of  the  Bible,  such  as  the  story  of  Hagar,  and  the  curse 
pronounced  upon  Ham,  were  adduced  by  Miss  Jane  and  Miss 
Tildy  in  a  tone  of  triumph. 

"  Oh,  I  sicken  over  these  stories,"  said  the  same  winning 
voice.  "  How  long  will  Christians  willingly  resist  the  known 
truth  ?  How  long  will  they  bay  at  heaven  with  their  cruel 
blasphemies  ?  For  I  hold  it  to  be  blasphemy  when  a  body  of 
Christians,  professing  to  be  followers  of  Him  who  came  from 
heaven  to  earth,  and  assumed  the  substance  of  humanity  to 
teach  us  a  lesson,  argue  thus.  Our  Great  Model  declares  that 
'  He  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  to  minister.'  He  in- 
culcated practically  the  lesson  of  humility  in  the  washing  of  the 
disciples'  feet ;  yet,  these  His  modern  disciples,  the  followers 
of  to-day,  preach,  even  from  the  sacred  desk,  the  right  of  men  to 
bold  their  fellow-creatures  in  bondage  through  endless  genera- 
tions, to  sell  them  for  gold,  to  beat  them,  to  keep  them  in  a  heathen- 
ish ignorance  ;  and  yet  declare  that  it  all  has  the  divine  sanction. 
Verily,  oh  night  of  Judaism,  thou  wast  brighter  than  this  our 
noon-day  oi  Christianity  !  Black  and  bitter  is  the  account,  oh 
Church  of  God,  that  thou  art  gathering  to  thyself !  I  could  pray 
for  a  tongue  of  inspiration,  wherewith  to  denounce  this  foul 
crime.  I  could  pray  for  the  power  to  show  to  my  country  the 
terrible  stain  she  has  painted  upon  the  banner  of  freedom. 
How  dare  we,  as  Americans,  boast  of  this  as  the  home  and 
temple   of  liberty  1     Where   are   the    '  inalienable   rights'    of 


THE    SPIRIT    OVATION,  81 

which  our  Constitution  talks  in  such  trumpet-tones  ?  Does 
not  our  Declaration  of  Independence  aver,  that  all  men  are 
born  free  and  equal?  Now,  do  we  not  make  this  a  practical 
falsehood?  Let  the  poor  slave  come  up  to  the  tribunal  of 
justice,  and  ask  the  wise  judge  upon  the  bench  to  interpret 
this  piece  of  plain  English  to  him  !  How  would  the  man  of 
ermine  blush  at  his  own  quibbles  1" 

I  could  tell  from  the  speaker's  voice  that  he  had  risen  from 
his  seat,  and  I  knew,  from  the  sound  of  footsteps,  that  he  was 
approaching  the  window.  I  crouched  clown  lower  and  lower, 
in  order  to  conceal  myself  from  observation,  but  gazed  up  to 
behold  one  whose  noble  sentiments  and  bold  expression  of  them 
had  so  entranced  me. 

Very  noble  looked  he,  standing  there,  with  the  silver  moon- 
light beaming  upon  his- broad,  white  brow,  and  his  deep,  blue 
eye  uplifted  to  the  star-written  skies.  His  features  were  calm 
and  classic  in  their  mould,  and  a  mystic  light  seemed  to  idealize 
and  spiritualize  his  face  and  form.  Kneeling  down  upon  the 
earth,  I  looked  reverently  to  him,  as  the  children  of  old  looked 
upon  their  prophets.  He  did  not  perceive  me,  and  even 
if  he  had,  what  should  I  have  been  to  him — a  pale-browed 
student,  whose  thought,  large  and  expansive,  was  filled  with  the 
noble,  the  philanthropic,  and  the  great.  Yet,  there  I  crouched 
in  fear  and  trembling,  lest  a  breath  should  betray  my  secret 
place.  But,  would  not  his  extended  pity  have  embraced  me, 
even  me,  a  poor,  insignificant,  uncared-for  thing  in  the  great  world 
— one  who  bore  upon  her  face  the  impress  of  the  hated  nation  ? 
Ay,  I  felt  that  he  would  not  have  condemned  me  as  one  devoid 
of  the  noble  impulse  of  a  heroic  humanity.  If  the  African 
has  not  heroism,  pray  where  will  you  find  it  ?  Are  there,  in 
the  high  endurance  of  the  heroes  of  old  Sparta,  sufferings  such 
as  the  unchronicled  life  of  many  a  slave  can  furnish  forth  ? 
Martyrs  have  gone  to  the  stake ;  but  amid  the  pomp  and  sound- 
ing psaltery  of  a  choir,  and  above  the  flame,  the  fagot  and  the 
scaffold,  they  descried  the  immortal  crown,  and  even  the 
worldly  and  sensuous  desire  of  canonization  may  not  have  been 
4* 


82  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

dead  with  them.  The  patriot  braves  the  battle,  and  dies  amid 
the  thickest  of  the  carnage,  whilst  the  jubilant  strains  of 
music  herald  him  away.  The  soldier  perishes  amid  the  proud 
acclaim  of  his  countrymen;  but  the  poor  negro  dies  a  martyr, 
unknown,  unsung,  and  uncheered.  Many  expire  at  the  whip- 
ping-post, with  the  gleesome  shouts  of  their  inhuman  tormentors, 
as  their  only  cheering.  Yet  few  pity  us.  We  are  valuable 
only  as  jiroperty.  Our  lives  are  nothing,  and  our  souls — why 
they  scarcely  think  we  have  any.  In  reflecting  upon  these 
things,  in  looking  calmly  back  over  my  past  life,  and  in  review- 
ing the  lives  of  many  who  are  familiar  to  me,  I  have  felt  that 
the  Lord's  forbearance  must  indeed  be  great ;  and  when  thoughts 
of  revenge  have  curdled  my  blood,  the  prayer  of  my  suffering 
Saviour  :  "  Father  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do,"  has  flashed  through  my  mind,  and.  I  have  repelled  them 
as  angry  and  unchristian.  Jesus  drank  the  wormwood  and  the 
gall ;  and  we,  oh,  brethren  and  sisters  of  the  banned  race, 
must  "  tread  the  wine-press  alone.''  We  must  bear  firmly  upon 
the  burning  ploughshare,  and  pass  manfully  through  the  ordeal, 
for  vengeance  is  His  and  He  will  repay. 

But  there,  in  the  sweet  moonlight,  as  I  looked  upon  this  young 
apostle  of  reform,  a  whole  troop  of  thoughts  less  bitter  than 
these  swept  over  my  mind.  There  were  gentle  dreamings  of  a 
home,  a  quiet  home,  in  that  Northland,  where,  at  least,  we  are 
countenanced  as  human  beings.  "  Who,"  I  asked  myself,  "  is  this 
mysterious  Fred  Douglas  V  A  black  man  he  evidently  was  ; 
but  how  had  I  heard  him  spoken  of?  As  one  devoted  to  self-cul- 
ture in  its  noblest  form,  who  ornamented  society  by  his  impos- 
ing and  graceful  bearing,  who  electrified  audiences  with  the 
splendor  of  his  rhetoric,  and  lured  scholars  to  his  presence  by 
the  fame  of  his  acquirements;  and  this  man,  this  oracle  of  lore, 
was  of  my  race,  of  my  blood.  What  he  had  done,  others 
might  achieve.  What  a  high  determination  then  fired  my 
breast !  Give,  give  me  but  the  opportunity,  and  my  chief  amr 
bition  will  be  to  prove  that  we,  though  wronged  and  despised, 
are  not  inferior  to  the  proud  Caucasians.     I  will  strive  to  redeem 


THE    CHARM.  83 

from  unjust  aspersion  the  name  of  my  people.  He,  this 
illustrious  stranger,  gave  the  first  impetus  to  my  ambition  ;  from 
him  my  thoughts  assumed  a  form,  and  one  visible  aim  now  pos- 
sessed my  soul. 

How  long  I  remained  there  listening  I  do  not  remember,  for 
soon  the  subject  of  conversation  was  changed,  and  I  noted  not 
the  particular  words  ;  but  that  mournfully  musical  voice  had  a 
siren-charm  for  my  ear,  and  I  could  not  tear  myself  away. 
Whilst  listening  to  it,  sweet  sleep,  like  a  shielding  mantle,  fell 
upon  me. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE      CONVERSATION      IN     WHICH      FEAR     AND     SUSPICION      ARE 
AROUSED — THE    YOUNG    MASTER. 

It  must  have  been  long  after  midnight  when  I  awoke.  I  do 
not  remember  whether  I  had  dreamed  or  not,  but  the  slumber 
had  brought  refreshment  to  my  body  and  peace  to  my  heart. 

I  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  voices,  in  a  suppressed  whis- 
per, or  rather  in  a  tone  slightly  above  a  whisper.  I  thought  I 
detected  the  voice  of  Lindy,  and,  as  I  rose  from  my  recumbent 
posture,  I  caught  sight  of  a  figure  flitting  round  the  gable  of 
the  house.  I  followed,  but  there  was  nothing  visible.  The  pale 
moonlight  slept  lovingly  upon  the  dwelling  and  the  roofs  of 
the  out-buildings.  Whither  could  the  figure  have  fled  ?  There 
was  no  sign  of  any  one  having  been  there.  Slowly  and  sadly 
I  directed  my  steps  toward  Aunt  Polly's  cabin.  I  opened  the 
door  cautiously,  not  wishing  to  disturb  her ;  but  easy  and  noise- 
less as  were  my  motions,  they  roused  that  faithful  creature. 
She  sprang  from  the  bed,  exclaiming  : 

''  La,  Ann,  whar  has  yer  bin  %  I  has  bin  so  oneasy  'bout 
yer." 

With  my  native  honesty  I  explained  to  her  that  I  had  been 
beguiled  by  the  melody  of  a  human  voice,  and  had  lingered 
long  out  in  the  autumn  moonlight. 

"  Yes ;  but,  chile,  you'll  be  sick.  Sleepin'  out  a  doors  is  berry 
onwholesome  like." 

"  Yes  ;  but,  Aunt  Polly,  there  is  an  interior  heat  which  no 
autumnal  frost  has  power  to  chill." 

"  Yes,  chile,  you  does  talk  so  pretty,  like  dem  ar'  great  white 
scholards.  Many  times  I  has  wondered  how  a  poor  darkie 
could  lam  so  much.     Now  it  'pears  to  me  as  if  you  knowed 

m 


AFRICAN    INTELLECT.  S5 

much  as  any  ob  'em.  I  don't  tink  Miss  Bradly  hersef  talks 
any  better  clan  you  does." 

"  Ob,  Aunt  Polly,  your  praise  is  sweet  to  me ;  but  then,  you 
must  remember  not  to  do  me  more  than  justice.  I  am  a  poor, 
illiterate  mulatto  girl,  who  has  indeed  improved  the  modicum  of 
time  allowed  her  for  self-culture  ;  yet,  when  I  hear  such  ladies 
as  Miss  Bradly  talk,  I  feel  how  far  inferior  I  am  to  the  queens 
of  the  white  tribe  Often  I  ask  myself  why  is  this  ?  Is  it 
because  my  face  is  colored  %  But  tben  there  is  a  voice,  deep 
down  in  my  soul,  tbat  rejects  such  a  conclusion  as  slanderous. 
Ob,  give  me  but  opportunity,  and  I  will  strive  to  equal  them  in 
learning." 

fl  I  don't  see  no  use  in  yer  wanting  to  larn,  when  you  is 
nothing  but  a  poor  slave.  But  I  does  think  the  gift  of  fine 
speech  migbty  valable." 

And  here  is  another  thing  upon  which  I  would  generalize. 
Does  it  not  argue  the  possession  of  native  mind — the  immense 
value  the  African  places  upon  words — the  high-flown  and  broad- 
sounding  words  that  he  usually  employs  ?  The  ludicrous  at- 
tempts which  the  most  untutored  make  at  grandiloquence,  should 
not  so  much  provoke  mirth  as  admiration  in  the  more  reflective 
of  the  white  race.  Through  what  barriers  and  obstacles  do  not 
their  minds  struggle  to  force  a  way  up  to  the  light.  I  have 
often  been  astonished  at  the  quickness  with  which  they  seized 
upon  expressions,  and  the  accuracy  with  which  they  would  apply 
them.  Every  crude  attempt  which  they  make  toward  self- 
culture  is  laughed  at  and  scorned  by  the  master,  or  treated  as 
the  most  puerile  folly.  No  encouragement  is  given  them.  If, 
by  almost  superhuman  effort,  they  gain  knowledge,  why  they 
may ;  but,  unaided  and  alone,  they  must  work,  as  I  have  done. 
Moreover,  I  have  been  wonder-stricken  at  the  facility  with  which 
the  negro-boy  acquires  learning.  'Tis  as  though  the  rudiments 
of  the  school  came  to  him  by  flashes  of  intuition.  He  is  allowed 
only  a  couple  of  hours  on  Sunday  afternoons  for  recitations,  and 
such  odd  moments  during  the  week  as  he  can  catch  to  prepare  his 
lessons ;  for,  a  servant-boy  often  caught  with  his  book  in  hand, 


86  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

■would  be  pronounced  indolent,  and  punished  as  such.  Then,  how 
unjust  it  is  for  the  proud  statesman — prouder  of  his  snowy  com- 
plexion than  of  his  stores  of  knowledge — how  unjust,  I  say,  is  it  in 
him  to  assert,  in  the  halls  of  legislation,  that  the  colored  race  are 
to  the  white  far  inferior  in  native  mind  !  Has  he  weighed  the 
advantages  and  disadvantages  of  both  ?  Has  he  remembered  that 
the  whites,  through  countless  generations,  have  been  cultivated 
and  refined — familiarized  with  the  arts  and  sciences  and  ele. 
gancies  of  a  graceful  age,  whilst  the  blacks  are  bound  down  in 
ignorance ;  unschooled  in  lore  ;  untrained  in  virtue ;  taught  to 
look  upon  themselves  as  degraded — the  mere  drudges  of  their 
masters ;  debarred  the  privileges  of  social  life ;  excluded  from, 
books,  with  the  products  of  their  labor  going  toward  the  enrich- 
ment of  others  ?  When,  as  in  some  solitary  instance,  a  single 
mind  dares  to  break  through  the  restraints  and  impediments 
imposed  upon  it,  does  not  the  fact  show  of  what  strength  the 
race,  when  properly  cared  for,  is  capable  ?  Is  not  the  bulb, 
which  enshrouds  the  snowy  leaves  of  the  fragrant  lily,  an  un- 
sightly thing  ?  Does  tbe  uncut  diamond  show  any  of  the  polish 
and  brilliancy  which  the  lapidary's  hand  can  give  it  ?  Thus  is 
it  with  the  African  mind.  Let  but  the  schoolmen  breathe  upon 
it,  let  the  architect  of  learning  fashion  it,  and  no  diamond  ever 
glittered  with  more  resplendence.  With  a  more  than  prismatic 
light,  it  will  refract  the  beams  of  the  sun  of  knowledge ;  and 
the  heart,  the  most  noble  African's  heart,  that  now  slumbers  in 
the  bulb  of  ignorance,  will  burst  forth,  pure  and  lovely  as  the 
white-petaled  lily  ! 

I  hope,  kind  reader,  you  will  pardon  these  digressions,  as  I 
write  my  inner  as  well  as  outer  life,  and  I  should  be  unfaithful 
to  my  most  earnest  thoughts  were  I  not  to  chronicle  such  reflec- 
tions as  these.  This  book  is  not  a  wild  romance  to  beguile  your 
tears  and  cheat  your  fancy.  No  ;  it  is  the  truthful  autobiography 
of  one  who  has  suffered  long,  long,  the  pains  and  trials  of  slavery. 
And  she  is  committing  her  story,  with  her  own  calm  deductions, 
to  the  consideration  of  every  thoughtful  and  truth-loving  mind. 

"  Where,"  I  asked  Aunt  Polly,  "is  Lindy  ?" 


THE    SUSPICION.  87 

"  Oh,  chile,  I  doesn't  know  whar  dat  gal  is.  Sompen  is  cle 
matter  wid  her.  She  bin  flyin'  round  hero  like  somebody  out 
ob  dar  head.  All's  not  right  wid  her,  now  you  mark  my  words 
fur  it." 

I  then  related  to  her  the  circumstance  which  had  occurred 
whilst  I  was  under  the  window. 

"I  does  jist  know  dat  was  Lindy!  You  didn't  see  who  she 
was  talkin'  wid  1" 

"  No ;  and  I  did  not  distinctly  discern  her  form ;  but  the  voice 
I  am  confident  was  her's." 

"  Well,  sompen  is  gwine  to  happen  ;  kase  Lindy  is  berry 
great  coward,  and  I  well  knows  'twas  sompen  great  dat  would 
make  her  be  out  dar  at  midnight." 

"  What  do  you  think  it  means  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  lean  up  close  to  me,  chile,  while  I  jist  whisper  it  low 
like  to  you.     I  believe  Lindy  is  gwine  to  run  off." 

I  started  back  in  terror.  I  felt  the  blood  grow  cold  in  my 
veins.  Why,  if  she  made  such  an  attempt  as  this,  the  whole 
country  would  be  scoured  for  her.  Hot  pursuers  would  be  out 
in  every  direction.  And  then  her  flight  would  render  slavery 
ten  times  more  severe  for  us.  Master  would  believe  that  we 
Avere  cognizant  of  it,  and  we  should  be  put  to  torture  for  the 
purpose  of  wringing  from  us  something  in  regard  to  her.  Then 
apprehension  of  our  following  her  example  would  cause  the  reins 
of  authority  to  be  even  more  tightly  drawn.  What  wonder, 
then,  that  fright  possessed  our  minds,  as  the  horrid  suspicion 
began  to  assume  something  like  reality.  We  regarded  each 
other  in  silent  horror.  The  dread  workings  of  the  fiend  of  fear 
were  visible  in  the  livid  hue  which  overspread  my  companion's 
face  and  shone  in  the  glare  of  her  aged  eye.  She  clasped  her 
skinny  hands  together,  and  cried, 

"  Oh,  my  chile,  orful  times  is  comin'  fur  us.  While  Lindy 
will  be  off  in  that  'lightful  Canady,  we  will  be  here  sufferin'  all 
sorts  of  trouble.    Oh,  de  Lord,  if  dar  be  any,  hab  marcy  on  us!" 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Polly,  don't  say  'if  there  be  any ;'  for,  so  certain 
as  we  both  sit  here,  there  is  a  Lord  who  made  us.  and  who  cares 


88  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

for  us,  too.  We  are  as  much  the  children  of  His  love  as  are  the 
whites." 

"  Oh  Lord,  chile,  I  kan't  belieh  it ;  fur,  if  he  loves  us,  why 
does  he  make  us  suffer  so,  an'  let  de  white  folks  hab  such  an 
easy  time  ?" 

"  He  has  some  wise  purpose  in  it.  And  then  in  that  Eternity 
which  succeeds  the  grave,  He  will  render  us  blest  and  happy." 

The  clouds  of  ignorance  hung  too  thick  and  close  around  her 
mind ;  and  the  poor  old  woman  did  not  see  the  justice  of  such 
a  decree.  She  was  not  to  blame  if,  in  her  woeful  ignorance, 
she  yielded  to  unbelief;  and,  with  a  profanity  which  knowledge 
would  have  rebuked,  dared  to  boldly  question  the  Divine  Pur- 
pose.    This  sin,  also,  is  at  the  white  man's  door. 

I  did  not  strive  further  to  enlighten  her ;  for,  be  it  confessed, 
I  was  myself  jwssessed  by  physical  fear  to  an  unwonted  degree. 
I  did  not  think  of  courting  sleep.  The  brief  dream  which  had 
fallen  upon  me  as  I  slept  beneath  the  parlor  window,  had  given 
me  sufficient  refreshment.  And  as  for  Aunt  Polly,  she  was  too 
much  frightened  to  think  of  sleep.  Talk  Ave  did,  long  and 
earnestly.  I  mentioned  to  her  what  I  had  heard  Misses  Tildy 
and  Jane  say  in  regard  to  Amy. 

"  Poor  thing,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Polly,  "  she'll  not  be  able  to 
stand  it,  for  her  heart  is  wrapped  up  in  dat  ar'  chile's.  She 
'pears  like  its  mother." 

"  I  hope  they  may  change  their  intentions,"  I  ventured  to  say. 

"  No  ;  neber.  When  wonst  Miss  Jane  gets  de  notion  ob 
finery  in  her  head,  she  is  gwine  to  hab  it.  Lord  lub  you,  Ann, 
I  does  wish  dey  would  sell  you  and  me." 

''So  do  I,"  was  my  fervent  reply. 

"  But  dey  will  neber  sell  you,  kase  Miss  Jane  tinks  you  is 
good-lookin',  an'  I  hearn  her  say  she  would  like  to  hab  a  nice- 
lookin'  maid.     You  see  she  tinks  it  is  'spectable." 

"  I  suppose  I  must  bear  my  cross  and  crown  of  thorns  with 
patience." 

Just  then  little  Ben  groaned  in  his  sleep,  and  quickly  his  ever- 
watchful  guardian  was  aroused ;  she  bent  over  him,  soothing  his 


THE    COLLOQUY.  89 

perturbed  sleep  with  a  low  song.  Many  were  the  endearing 
epithets  which  she  employed,  such  as,  "  Pretty  little  Benny, 
nothing  shall  hurt  you."  "  Bless  your  little  heart,"  and  "here 
1  is  by  yer  side,"  ''  I'll  keep  de  bars  way  frum  yer." 

''  Poor  child,"  burst  involuntarily  from  my  lips,  as  I  reflect- 
ed that  even  that  one  only  treasure  would  soon  be  taken  from 
her ;  then  in  what  a  hopeless  eclipse  would  sink  every  ray  of 
mind.  Hearing  my  exclamation,  she  sprung  up,  and  eagerly 
asked, 

"  What  is  de  matter,  Ann  ?  Why  is  you  and  Aunt  Polly 
sittin'  up  at  dis  time  ob  of  de  night  ?  It's  most  day  ;  say,  is 
anything  gwine  on  ?" 

"Nothing  at  all,"  I  answered,  "only  Aunt  Polly  does  not 
feel  very  well,  and  I  am  sitting  up  talking  with  her." 

Thus  appeased,  she  returned  to  her  bed  (if  such  a  miserable 
thing  could  be  called  a  bed),  and  was  soon  sleeping  soundly. 

Aunt  Polly  wiped  her  eyes  as  she  said  to  me, 

'■'  Ann,  doesn't  we  niggers  hab  to  bar  a  heap  ?  We  works 
hard,  and  gits  nothing  but  scanty  vittels,  de  scraps  dat  de  white 
folks  leabes,  and  den  dese  miserable  old  rags  dat  only  half 
kevers  our  nakedness.     I  declare  it  is  too  hard  to  bar." 

"  Yes,"  1  answered,  "  it  is  hard,  very  hard,  and  enough  to 
shake  the  endurance  of  the  most  determined  martyr ;  yet, 
often  do  I  repeat  to  myself  those  divine  words,  '  The  cap 
which  my  Father  has  given  me  will  I  drink ;'  and  then  I  feel 
calmed,  strong,  and  heroic." 

"  Oh,  Ann,  chile,  you  does  talk  so  beautiful,  an'  you  has  got 
de  rale  sort  ob  religion." 

"  Oh,  would  that  I  could  think  so.  Would  that  my  soul  were 
more  patient.  I  am  not  sufficiently  hungered  and  athirst 
after  righteousness.  I  pant  too  much  for  the  joys  of  earth.  I 
crave  worldly  inheritance,  whilst  the  Christian's  true  aim  should 
be  for  the  mansions  of  the  blest." 

Thus  wore  on  the  night  in  social  conversation,  and  I  forgot, 
in  that  free  intercourse,  that  there  was  a  difference  between  us. 
The  heart  takes  not  into  consideration  the   distinction  of  mind. 


90  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

Love  banishes  all  thought  of  rank  or  inequality.  By  her  kind- 
ness and  confidence,  this  old  woman  made  me  forget  her  igno- 
rance. 

When  the  first  red  streak  of  day  began  to  announce  the 
slow  coming  of  the  sun,  Aunt  Polly  was  out,  and  about  her 
breakfast  arrangements. 

Since  the  illness  of  Master,  and  the  departure  of  Mr.  Jones, 
things  had  not  gone  on  with  the  same  precision  as  before. 
There  was  a  few  minutes  difference  in  the  blowing  of  the  horn ; 
and,  for  offences  like  these,  Master  had  sworn  deeply  that 
"  every  nigger's  hide"  should  be  striped,  as  soon  as  he  was  able 
to  preside  at  the  "  post."  During  his  sickness  he  had  not 
allowed  one  of  us  to  enter  his  room  ;  ''for,"  as  he  said  to  the  doc- 
tor, "  a  cussed  nigger  made  him  feel  worse,  he  wanted  to  be 
up  and  beatin'  them.  They  needed  the  cowhide  every  breath 
they  drew."  And,  as  the  sapient  doctor  decided  that  our  pres- 
ence had  an  exciting  effect  upon  him,  we  were  banished  from 
his  room.     "Banished/ — what's  banished  but  set  free  I" 

Now,  when  I  rose  from  my  seat,  and  bent  over  the  form  of  Amy, 
and  watched  her  as  she  lay  wrapt  in  a  profound  sleep,  with  one  arm 
encircling  little  Ben,  and  the  two  sisters,  Jane  and  Luce,  lying 
close  to  her — so  dependent  looked  the  three,  as  they  thus  hud- 
dled round  their  young  protectress,  so  loving  and  trustful  in 
that  deep  repose,  that  I  felt  now  would  be  a  good  time  for  the 
angel  Death  to  come — now,  before  the  fatal  fall  of  the  Damo- 
clesian  sword,  whose  hair  thread  was  about  to  snap  :  but  no — 
Death  comes  not  at  our  bidding ;  he  obeys  a  higher  appoint- 
ment. The  boy  moaned  again  in  his  sleep,  and  Amy's  faith- 
ful arm  was  tightened  round  him.  Closer  she  drew  him  to  her 
maternal  heart,  and  in  a  low,  gurgling,  songful  voice,  lulled  him 
to  a  sweeter  rest.  I  turned  away  from  the  sight,  and,  sinking 
on  my  knees,  offered  up  a  prayer  to  Him  our  common  Father.  I 
prayed  that  strength  might  be  furnished  me  to  endure  the  torture 
which  I  feared  would  come  with  the  labors  of  the  day  I 
asked,  in  an  especial  way,  for  grace  to  be  given  to  the  child, 
Amy.     God    is  merciful !     He   moves  in    a  mysterious    man- 


THE   YOUNG    MASTER.  91 

ner.  All  power  comes  direct  from  Him  ;  and,  oh,  did  I  not  feel 
that  this  young  creature  had  need  of  grace  to  bear  the  burden 
that  others  were  preparing  for  her  ! 

My  business  was  to  clean  the  house  and  set  to  rights  the  young 
ladies'  apartment,  and  then  assist  Lindy  in  the  breakfast-room ; 
but  I  dared  not  venture  in  the  ladies'  chamber  until  half-past 
six  o'clock,  as  the  slightest  foot-fall  would  arouse  Miss  Jane, 
who,  I' think,  was  too  nervous  to  sleep.  Thus  I  was  left  some 
little  time  to  myself;  and  these  few  moments  I  generally  devoted 
to  reading  some  simple  story-book  or  chapters  in  the  New 
Testament.  Of  course,  the  mighty  mysteries  of  the  sacred  vol- 
ume were  but  imperfectly  appreciated  by  me.  I  read  the  book 
more  as  a  duty  than  a  pleasure ;  but  this  morning  I  could  not  read. 
Christ's  beautiful  parable  of  the  Ten  Virgins,  winch  has  such  a 
wondrous  significance  even  to  the  most  childish  mind,  failed  to 
impart  interest,  and  the  blessed  page  fell  from  my  hands  unread. 

I  then  thought  I  would  go  to  the  kitchen  and  assist  Aunt 
Polly.  I  found  her  very  much  excited,  and  in  close  conversa- 
tion with  our  master's  son  John,  whom  the  servants  familiarly 
addressed  as  "young  master." 

I  have,  as  yet,  forborne  all  direct  and  special  mention  of  him, 
though  he  was  by  no  means  a  person  lacking  interest.  Unlike 
his  father  and  sisters,  he  was  gentle  in  disposition,  full  of  loving 
kindness ;  yet  he  was  so  taciturn,  that  we  had  seldom  an  indica- 
tion of  that  generosity  that  burned  so  intensely  in  the  very  centre 
of  his  soul,  and  which  subsequent  events  called  forth.  His  sisters 
pronounced  him  stupid  ;  and,  in  the  choice  phraseology  of  his 
father,  he  was  "  poke-easy ;"  but  the  poor,  undiscriminating  black 
people,  called  him  gentle.  To  me  he  said  but  little  ;  yet  that 
little  was  always  kindly  spoken,  and  I  knew  it  to  be  the  dictate 
of  a  soft,  humane  spirit. 

Fair-haired,  with  deep  blue  eyes,  a  snowy  complexion  and 
pensive  manners,  he  glided  by  us,  ever  recalling  to  my  mind 
the  thought  of  seraphs.  He  was  now  fifteen  years  of  age,  but 
small  of  stature  and  slight  of  sinew,  with  a  mournful  expression 
and  dejected  eye,  as  though  the  burden  of  a  great  sorrow  had 


92  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

been  early  laid  upon  him.  During  all  my  residence  there,  1 
had  never  heard  him  laugh  loud  or  seen  him  run.  He  had  none 
of  that  exhilaration  and  buoyancy  which  are  so  captivating  in 
childhood.  If  he  asked  a  favor  of  even  a  servant,  he  always 
expressed  a  hope  that  he  had  given  no  trouble.  When  a  slave 
was  to  be  whipped,  he  would  go  off  and  conceal  himself  some- 
where, and  never  was  he  a  spectator  of  any  cruelty  ;  yet  he 
did  not  remonstrate  with  his  father  or  intercede  for  the  victims. 
No  one  had  ever  heard  him  speak  against  the  diabolical  acts  of 
his  father  ;  yet  all  felt  that  he  condemned  them,  for  there  was 
a  silent  expression  of  reproof  in  the  earnest  gaze  which  he 
sometimes  gave  him.  I  always  fancied  when  the  boy  came  near 
me,  that  there  was  about  him  a  religion,  which,  like  the  wondrous 
virtue  of  the  Saviour's  garment,  was  manifest  only  when  you 
approached  near  enough  to  touch  it.  It  was  not  expressed  in 
any  open  word,  or  made  evident  by  any  signal  act,  but,  like  the 
life-sustaining  air  which  we  daily  breathe,  we  knew  it  only 
through  its  beneficent  though  invisible  influence. 


CHAPTEE    XI. 

THE    FLIGHT — YOUNG    MASTER'S    APPREHENSIONS HIS    CONVER- 
SATION—AMY  EDIFYING    TALK    AMONG    LADIES. 

I  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  young  master  now  in  an 
apparently  earnest  colloquy  with  Aunt  Polly.  A  deep  carnation 
spot  burned  upon  his  cheeks,  and  his  soft  eye  was  purple  in  its 
intensity. 

"  What  is  the  matter  I"  I  asked. 

"  Lor,  chile,"  replied  Aunt  Polly,  "  Lindy  can't  be  found  no- 
whar." 

"  Has  every  place  been  searched  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  said  little  John,  "  and  she  is  nowhere  to  be  found." 

"  Does  master  know  it  ?" 

"  Not  yet,  and  I  hope  it  may  be  kept  from  him  for  some  time, 
at  least  two  or  three  hours,"  he  replied,  with  a  mournful  earnest- 
ness of  tone. 

"  Why  ?  Is  he  not  well  enough  to  bear  the  excitement  of 
it  ?"  I  inquired. 

The  boy  fixed  his  large  and  wondering  eyes  upon  me.  His 
gaze,  lingered  for  a  minute  or  two ;  it  was  enough ;  -I  read  his 
inmost  thoughts,  and  in  my  secret  soul  I  revered  him,  for  I  bowed 
to  the  majesty  of  a  heaven-born  soul.  Such  spirits  are  indeed 
few.  God  lends  them  to  earth  for  but  a  short  time  ;  and  we 
should  entertain  them  well,  for,  though  they  come  in  forms  un- 
recognized, yet  must  we,  despite  the  guise  of  humanity,  do  rev- 
erence to  the  shrined  seraph„  This  boy  now  became  to  me  an 
object  of  more  intense  interest.  I  felt  assured,  by  the  power 
of  that  magnetic  glance,  that  he  was  not  unacquainted  with  the 
facts  of  Lindy's  flight. 

[93] 


94  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  the  river  ?"  he  said,  as  if  speaking 
with  himself,  "  nine  miles — let  me  see — the  Ohio  once  gained, 
and  crossed,  they  are  comparatively  safe." 

He  started  suddenly,  as  if  he  had  been  betrayed  or  beguiled 
of  his  secret,  and  starting  up  quickly,  walked  away.  I  followed 
him  to  the  door,  and  watched  his  delicate  form  and  golden  head, 
until  he  disappeared  in  a  curve  of  the  path  which  led  to  the 
spring.  That  was  a  favorite  walk  with  him.  Early  in  the 
morning  (for  he  rose  before  the  lark)  and  late  in  the  twilight, 
alike  in  winter  or  summer,  he  pursued  his  walk.  Never  once 
did  I  see  him  with  a  book  in  his  hand.  With  his  eye  upturned 
to  the  heavens  or  bent  upon  the  earth,  he  seemed  to  be  reading 
Nature's  page.  He  had  made  no  great  profieiency  in  book- 
knowledge  ;  and,  indeed,  as  he  subsequently  told  me,  he  had 
read  nothing  but  the  Bible.  The  stories  of  the  Old  Testament 
he  had  committed  to  memory,  and  could  repeat  with  great  accu- 
racy. That  of  Joseph  possessed  a  peculiar  fascination  for  him. 
As  I  closed  the  kitchen  door  and  rejoined  Aunt  Polly,  she 
remarked, 

"Jist  as  I  sed,  Lindy  is  off,  and  we  is  left  here  to  hab  trouble; 
oh,  laws,  look  for  sights  now  !" 

I  made  no  reply,  but  silently  set  about  assisting  her  in  getting 
breakfast.  Shortly  after  old  Nace  came  in,  with  a  strange  ex- 
pression lighting  up  his  fiendish  face. 

"  Has  you  hearn  de  news  ?"  And  without  waiting  for  a  reply, 
he  went  on,  "  Lindy  is  off  fur  Kanaday  !  ha,  ha,  ha !"  and  he 
broke  out  in  a  wild  laugh ;  "  I  guess  dat  dose  'ere  hounds  will 
scent  her  path  sure  enoff ;  I  looks  out  for  fun  in  rale  arnest.  I 
jist  hopes  I'll  be  sint  fur  her,  and  I'll  scour  dis  airth  but  what  I 
finds  her." 

And  thus  he  rambled  on,  in  a  diabolical  way,  neither  of  us 
heeding  him.  He  seemed  to  take  no  notice  of  our  silence,  being 
too  deeply  interested  in  the  subject  of  his  thoughts. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  at  what  hour  she  started  off.  Now,  she 
was  a  smart  one  to  git  off  so  slick,  widout  lettin'  anybody  know 
ob  it.     She  had  no  close  worth  takin'  wid  her,  so  she  ken  run 


nace's  joy.  95 

rle  faster.  I  wish  Masser  would  git  wake,  kase  I  wants  to  be  de 
fust  one  to  tell  him  ob  it." 

Just  then  the  two  field-hands,  Jake  and  Dan,  came  in. 

"  Wal,"  cried  the  former,  "  dis  am  news  indeed.  Lindy's  off 
fur  sartin.     Now  she  tinks  she  is  some,  I  reckon." 

"And  why  shouldn't  she  ?"  asked  Dan,  a  big,  burly  negro, 
good-natured,  but  very  weak  in  mind ;  of  a  rather  low  and  sen- 
suous nature,  yet  of  a  good  and  careless  humor — the  best  worker 
upon  the  farm.  I  looked  round  at  him  as  he  said  this,  for  I 
thought  there  was  reason  as  well  as  feeling  in  the  speech.  Why 
shouldn't  she  be  both  proud  and  happy  at  the  success  of  her 
bold  plan,  if  it  gains  her  liberty  and  enables  her  to  reach  that 
land  where  the  law  would  recognize  her  as  possessed  of  rights  ? 
I  could  almost  envy  her  such  a  lot. 

"  I  guess  she'll  find  her  Kanady  down  de  river,  by  de  timede 
dogs  gits  arter  her,"  said  Nace,  with  another  of  his  ha,  ha's. 

"  I  wonder  who  Masser  will  send  fur  her  ?  I  bound,  Nace, 
you'll  be  sent,"  said  Jake. 

"  Yes,  if  dar  is  any  fun,  I  is  sure  to  be  dar;  but  hurry  up  yer 
hoe-cakes,  old  'ooman,  so  dat  de  breakfust  will  be  ober,  and  we 
can  hab  an  airly  start." 

The  latter  part  of  this  speech  was  addressed  to  Aunt  Polly, 
who  turned  round  and  brandished  the  poker  toward  him,  saying, 

"  Go  'bout  yer  business,  Nace ;  kase  you  is  got  cause  fur  joy, 
it  is  not  wort  my  while  to  be  glad.  You  is  an  old  fool,  dat 
nobody  keres  'bout,  no  how.  I  spects  you  would  be  glad  to  run 
off,  too,  if  yer  old  legs  was  young  enuff  fur  to  carry  you." 

"  Me,  Poll,  I  wouldn't  be  free  if  I  could,  kase,  you  see,  I  has 
done  sarved  my  time  at  de  '  post,'  and  now  I  is  Masser's  head-man, 
and  I  gits  none  ob  de  beatings.     It  is  fun  fur  me  to  see  de  oders." 

I  turned  my  eyes  upon  him,  and  he  looked  so  like  a  beast 
that  I  shut  out  any  feeling  of  resentment  I  might  otherwise 
have  entertained.  Amy  came  in,  bearing  little  Ben  in  her  arms, 
followed  by  her  two  sisters,  Jinny  and  Lucy. 

"  La,  Aunt  Polly,  is  Lindy  gone  ?"  and  her  blank  eyes  open- 
ed to  an  unusual  width,  as  she  half-asked,  half-asserted  this  fact. 


96  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEiMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Yes,  but  what's  it  to  you,  Amy  1" 

" 1  jist  hear  'em  say  so,  as  I  was  comin'  along." 

"  Whar  she  be  gone  to  ?"  asked  Lucy. 

"  None  ob  yer  bisness,"  replied  Aunt  Polly,  with  her  usual 
gruffness. 

Strange  it  was,  that,  when  she  was  alone  with  me,  she  ap- 
peared to  wax  soft  and  gentle  in  her  nature ;  but,  when  with 
others,  she  was  ''  wolfish.'7  It  seemed  as  if  she  had  two  natures. 
Now,  with  Nace,  she  was  as  vile  and  almost  as  inhuman  as  he  ; 
but  I,  who  knew  her  heart  truly,  felt  that  she  was  doing  her- 
self injustice.  I  did  not  laugh  or  join  in  their  talk,  but  silently 
worked  on. 

"  Now,  you  see,  Ann  is  one  ob  de  proud  sort,  kase  she  ken 
read,  and  her  face  is  yaller ;  she  tinks  to  hold  herself  'bove  us ; 
but  I  'members  de  time  when  Masser  buyed  her  at  de  sale. 
Lor'  lub  yer,  but  she  did  cry  when  she  lef  her  mammy  ;  and  de 
way  old  Kais  flung  herself  on  de  ground,  ha  !  ha !  it  makes  me 
lafnow." 

I  turned  my  eyes  upon  him,  and,  I  fear,  there  was  anything 
but  a  Christian  spirit  beaming  therefrom.  He  had  touched  a 
chord  in  my  heart  which  was  sacred  to  memory,  love,  and 
silence.  My  mother  !  Could  I  bear  to  have  her  name  and 
her  sorrow  thus  rudely  spoken  of  ?  Oh,  God,  what  fierce  and 
fiendish  feelings  did  the  recollection  of  her  agony  arouse  ? 
With  burning  head  and  thorn-pierced  heart,  I  turned  back  a 
blotted  page  in  life.  Again,  with  horror  stirring  my  blood, 
did  I  see  her  in  that  sweat  of  mortal  agony,  and  hear  that 
shriek  that  rung  from  her  soul !  Oh,  God,  these  memories  are 
a  living  torture  to  me,  even  now.  But  though  Nace  had  touched 
the  tenderest,  sorest  part  of  my  heart,  I  said  nothing  to  him. 
The  strange  workings  of  my  countenance  attracted  Amy's  at- 
tention, and,  coming  up  to  me,  with  an  innocent  air,  she  asked : 

''  What  is  the  matter,  Ann  ?  Has  anything  happened  to  you  ?" 

These  questions,  put  by  a  simple  child,  one,  too,  whose  own 
young  life  had  been  deeply  acquainted  with  grief,  were  too  much 
for  my  assumed  stolidity      Tears  were  the  only  reply  I  could 


THE    QUIET    WALK.  97 

make.  The  child  regarded  me  curiously,  and  the  expression, 
"  poor  thing,"  burst  from  her  lips.  I  felt  grateful  for  even  her 
sympathy,  and  put  my  hand  out  to  her. 

She  grasped  it,  and,  leaning  close  to  me,  said  : 

*'  Don't  cry,  Ann ;  me  is  sorry  fur  you.  Don't  cry  any 
more." 

Poor  thing,  she  could  feel  sympathy ;  she,  who  was  so  loaded 
with  trouble,  whose  existence  had  none  of  the  freshness  and 
vernal  beauty  of  youth,  but  was  seared  and  blighted  like  age, 
held  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  a  pure  drop  of  genuine  sympa- 
thy, which  she  freely  offered  me.  Oh,  did  not  my  selfishness 
stand  rebuked. 

Looking  out  of  the  window,  far  down  the  path  that  wound  to 
the  spring,  I  descried  the  fair  form  of  the  young  John,  ad- 
vancing toward  the  house.  Pale  and  pure,  with  his  blue  eyes 
pensively  looking  up  to  heaven,  an  air  of  peaceful  thought  and 
subdued  emotion  was  breathing  from  his  very  form.  When  I 
looked  at  him,  he  suggested  the  idea  of  serenity.  There  was 
that  about  him  which,  like  the  moonlight,  inspired  calm.  He 
was  walking  more  rapidly  than  I  had  ever  seen  him  ;  but  the 
pallor  of  his  cheek,  and  the  clear,  cold  blue  of  his  heaven-lit 
eye,  harmonized  but  poorly  with  the  jarring  discords  of  life.  I 
thought  of  the  pure,  passionless  apostle  John,  whom  Christ 
so  loved  1  And  did  I  not  dream  that  this  youth,  too,  had  on 
earth  a  mission  of  love  to  perform  ?  Was  he  not  one  of  the 
sacred  chosen  ?  He  came  walking  slowly,  as  if  he  were  com- 
muning with  some  invisible  presence, 

"  Thar  comes  young  Masser,  and  I  is  glad,  kase  he  looks 
so  good  like.     I  does  lub  him,"  said  Amy. 

"  Now,  I  is  gwine  fur  to  tell  Masser,  and  he  will  gib  you  a 
beatin',  nigger-gal,  for  sayin'  you  lub  a  white  gemman,"  replied 
the  sardonic  Nace. 

"  Oh.  please  don't  tell  on  me.  I  did  not  mean  any  harm," 
and  she  burst  into  tears,  well-knowing  that  a  severe  whipping 
would  be  the  reward  of  her  construed  impertinence. 

Before  I  had  time  to  offer  her  any  consolation,  the  subject 


98  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

of  conversation  himself  stood  among  us.  With  a  low,  tuneful 
voice,  he  spoke  to  Amy,  inquiring  the  cause  of  her  tears. 

u  Oh,  young  Masser,  I  did  not  mean  any  harm.  Please  don't 
hab  me  beat."  Little  Ben  joined  in  her  tears,  whilst  the  two 
girls  clung  fondly  to  her  dress. 

"  Beaten  for  what?"  asked  young  master,  in  a  most  encour- 
aging manner. 

"  She  say  she  lub  you — jist  as  if  a  black  wench  hab  any 
right  to  lub  a  beautiful  white  gemman,"  put  in  Nace. 

"  I  am  glad  she  does,  and  wish  that  I  could  do  something 
that  would  make  her  love  me  more."  And  a  beatific  smile 
overspread  his  peaceful  face.  "Come,  poor  Amy,  let  me  see  if 
I  haven't  some  little  present  for  you,"  and  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  picayune,  which  he  handed  her.  With  a  wild  and 
singular  contortion  of  her  body,  she  made  an  acknowledgment  of 
thanks,  and  kissing  the  hem  of  his  robe,  she  , darted  off  from 
the  kitchen,  with  little  Ben  in  her  arms. 

Without  saying  one  word,  young  master  walked  away  from 
the  kitchen,  but  not  without  first  casting  a  sorrowful  look  upon 
Nace.  Strange  it  seemed  to  me,  that  this  noble  youth  never 
administered  a  word  of  reproof  to  any  one.  He  conveyed  all 
rebukes  by  means  of  looks.  Upon  me  this  would  have  pro- 
duced a  greater  impression,  for  those  mild,  reproachful  eyes 
spoke  with  a  power  which  no  language  could  equal ;  but  on 
one  of  Nace's  obtuseness,  it  had  no  effect  whatever. 

Shortly  after,  I  left  the  kitchen,  and  went  to  the  breakfast- 
room,  where,  with  the  utmost  expedition,  I  arranged  the  table, 
and  then  repaired  to  the  chamber  of  the  young  ladies.  I  found 
that  they  had  already  risen  from  their  bed.  Miss  Bradly 
(who  had  spent  the  night  with  them)  was  standing  at  the  mir- 
ror, braiding  her  long  hair.  Miss  Jane  was  seated  in  a  large 
chair,  with  an  elegant  dressing-wrapper,  waiting  for  me  to  comb 
her  "  auburn  hair,"  as  she  termed  it.  Miss  Tildy,  in  a  lazy  at- 
titude, was  talking  about  the  events  of  the  previous  evening. 

"  Now,  Miss  Emily,  I  do  think  him  very  handsome ;  but  I 
cannot  forgive  his  gross  Abolition  sentiments." 


REACTION    OF    THOUGHT.  99 

"  How  horribly  vulgar  and  low  lie  is  in  his  notions,"  said  Miss 
Jane. 

"  Ob,  but,  girls,  be  was  reared  in  tbe  North,  with  those  fana- 
tical Abolitionists,  and  we  can  scarcely  blame  him." 

"  What  a  horrible  set  of  men  those  Abolitionists  must  be. 
They  have  no  sense,"  said  Miss  Jane,  with  quite  a  Minerva 
air. 

"  Oh,  sense  they  assuredly  have,  but  judgment  they  lack. 
They  are  a  set  of  brain-sick  dreamers,  filled  with  Utopian 
schemes.  They  know  nothing  of  Slavery  as  it  exists  at  the 
South;  and  the  word,  which,  I  confess,  has  no  very  pleasant 
sound,  has  terrified  them."  This  remark  was  made  by  Miss 
Bradly,  and  so  astonished  me  that  I  fixed  my.  eyes  upon  her, 
and,  with  one  look,  strove  to  express  the  concentrated  contempt 
and  bitterness  of  my  nature.  This  look  she  did  not  seem  to 
heed.  With  strange  feelings  of  distrust  in  the  integrity  of  hu- 
man nature,  I  went  on  about  my  work,  which  was  to  arrange 
and  deck  Miss  Jane's  hair,  but  I  would  have  given  worlds  not  to 
have  felt  toward  Miss  Bradly  as  I  did.  I  remembered  with  what 
a  different  spirit  she  had  spoken  to  me  of  those  Abolitionists, 
whom  she  now  contemned  so  much,  and  referred  to  as  vain 
dreamers.  Where  was  the  exalted  philanthropy  that  I  had 
thought  dwelt  in  her  soul  ?  Was  she  not,  now,  the  weakest,  and 
most  sordid  of  mortals  ?  Where  was  that  far  and  heaven-reach- 
ing love,  that  had  seemed  to  encircle  her  as  a  living,  burning  zone  ? 
Gone  !  dissipated,  like  a  golden  mist  !  and  now,  before  my  sight 
she  stood,  poor  and  a  beggar,  upon  the  great  highway  of  life. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Miss  Tildy,  "  I  read  the  other  day  in  a 
newspaper  that  the  reason  these  northern  men  are  so  strongly 
in  favor  of  the  abolition  of  slavery  is,  that  they  entertain  a  pre- 
judice against  the  South,  and  that  all  this  political  warfare 
originated  in  the  base  feeling  of  envy." 

"  And  that  is  true,"  put  in  Miss  Jane;  "  they  know  that  cot- 
ton, rice  and  sugar  are  the  great  staples  of  the  South,  and 
where  can  you  find  any  laborers  but  negroes  to  produce  them  ?" 

"  Could  not  the  poor  class  of  whites  go  there  and  work  for 


100  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

wages  ?"  pertinently  asked  Miss  Tildy,  who  had  a  good  deal  of 
the  spirit  of  altercation  in  her. 

''  No,  of  course  not  ;  because  they  are  free  and  could  not  be 
made  to  work  at  all  times.  They  would  consent  to  be  employed 
only  at  certain  periods.  They  would  not  work  when  they  were 
in  the  least  sick,  and  they  would,  because  of  their  liberty,  claim 
certain  hours  as  their  own  ;  whereas  the  slave  has  no  right  to 
interpose  any  word  against  the  overseer's  order.  Sick  or  well, 
he  must  work  at  busy  seasons  of  the  year.  The  whip  has  a 
terribly  sanitary  power,  and  has  been  proven  to  be  a  more 
efficient  remedy  than  rhubarb  or  senna."  After  delivering  her- 
self of  this  wonderful  argument,  Miss  Jane  seemed  to  experience 
great  relief.  Miss  Bradly  turned  from  the  mirror,  and,  smiling 
sycophantically  upon  her,  said  :  "  Why,  my  dear,  how  well 
you  argue !     You  are  a  very  Cicero  in  debate." 

That  was  enough.  This  compliment  took  ready  root  in  the 
shallow  mind  of  the  receiver,  and  her  love  for  Miss  B.  became 
greater  than  ever. 

"  But  I  do  think  him  so  handsome,"  broke  from  Miss  Tildy's 
lips,  in  a  half  audible  voice. 

"  Whom  ?"  asked  Miss  Bradly, 

"  Why,  the  stranger  of  last  evening;  the  fair-browed  Robert 
Worth." 

"  Handsome,  indeed,  is  he  !"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  hope,  Matilda  Peterkin,  you  would  not  be  so  disloyal  to 
the  South,  and  to  the  very  honorable  institution  under  which 
your  father  accumulated  his  wealth,  as  to  even  admire  a  low- 
flung  northern  Abolitionist ;"  and  Miss  Jane  reddened  with  all 
a  Southron's  ire. 

Miss  Bradly  was  about  to  speak,  but  to  what  purpose  the 
world  to  this  day  remains  ignorant,  for  oath  after  oath,  and 
blasphemy  by  the  volley,  so  horrible  that  I  will  spare  myself 
and  the  reader  the  repetition,  proceeded  from  the  room  of  Mr. 
Peterkin. 

The  ladies  sprang  to  their  feet,  and,  in  terror,  rushed  from 
the  apartment. 


CHAPTEE    XII. 

MR.  PETERKIN'S  RAGE — ITS  ESCAPE — CHAT  AT  THE  BREAK- 
FAST TABLE — CHANGE  OF  VIEWS — POWER  OF  THE  FLESH 
POTS. 

It  was  as  I  had  expected ;  the  news  of  Lindy's  flight  had 
been  communicated  by  Nace  to  Mr.  Peterkin,  and  his  rage 
knew  no  limits.  It  was  dangerous  to  go  near  him.  Raving 
like  a  madman,  he  tore  the  covering  of  the  bed  to  shreds,  bran- 
dished his  cowhide  in  every  direction,  took  down  his  gun,  and 

swore  he  would  "  shoot  every  d d   nigger  on  the  place." 

His  daughters  had  no  influence  over  him.  Out  of  bed  he 
would  get,  declaring  that  "  all  this  devilment "  would  not  have 
been  perpetrated  if  he  had  not  been  detained  there  by  the  order 

of  that  d d   doctor,  who  had  no  reason  for  keeping  him 

there  but  a  desire  to  get  his  money.  Fearing  that  his  hyena 
rage  might  vent  some  of  its  gall  on  them,  the  ladies  made  no 
further  opposition  to  his  jntention. 

Standing  just  without  the  door,  I  heard  Miss  Jane  ask  him 
if  he  would  not  first  take  some  breakfast. 

"No;  cuss  your  breakfast.  I  want  none  of  it:  I  want  to 
be  among  them  ar'  niggers,  and  give  'em  a  taste  of  this  cow- 
hide, that  they  have  been  sufferin'  fur." 

In  affright  I  fled  to  the  kitchen,  and  told  Aunt  Polly  that  the 
storm  had  at  length  broken  in  all  its  fury.  Each  one  of  the 
negroes  eyed  the  others  in  silent  dismay. 

Pale  with  rage  and  debility,  hot  fury  flashing  from  his  eye, 
and  white  froth  gathering  upon  his  lips,  Mr.  Peterkin  dashed 
into  the  kitchen.     "  In  the  name  of  h — 11  and  its  fires,  niggers, 

what  does  this  mean  ?     Tell  me  whar  that  d d  gal  is,  or  I'll 

cut  every  mother's  child  of  you  to  death." 

[101] 


102  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

Not  one  spoke.     Lasli  after  lash  he  dealt  in  every  direction. 

"  Speak,  h — 11  hounds,  or  I'll  throttle  you!"  he  cried,  as  he 
caught  Jake  and  Dan  by  the  throat,  with  each  band,  and  half 
strangled  them.  With  tbeir  eyes  rolling,  and  their  tongues 
hanging  from  their  mouths,  they  had  not  power  to  answer.  As 
soon  as  he  loosened  his  grasp,  and  their  voices  were  sufficiently 
their  own  to  speak,  they  attempted  a  denial ;  hut  a  blow  from 
each  of  Mr.  Peterkin's  fists  levelled  them  to  the  floor.  In  this 
dreadful  state,  and  with  a  hope  of  getting  a  moment's  respite, 
Jake  (poor  fellow,  I  forgive  him  for  it)  pointed  to  me,  saying  : 

"  She  knows  all  'bout  it." 

This  had  the  desired  effect ;  finding  one  upon  whom  he  could 
vent  his  whole  wrath,  Peterkin  rushed  up  to  me,  and  Oh,  such  a 
blow  as  descended  upon  my  head  !  Fifty  stars  blazed  around 
me.  My  brain  burned  and  ached  ;  a  choking  rush  of  tears 
filled  my  eyes  and  throat.  "  Mercy  !  mercy  !"  broke  from  my 
agonized  lips  ;  but,  alas!  I  besought  it  from  a  tribunal  where  it 
was  not  to  be  found.  Blow  after  blow  he  dealt  me.  I  strove  not 
to  parry  them,  but  stood  and  received  them,  as,  right  and  left, 
they  fell  like  a  hail-storm.  Tears  and  blood  bathed  my  face 
and  blinded  my  sight.  "  You  cussed  fool,  I'll  make  you  rue 
the  day  you  was  born,  if  you  hide  from  me  what  you  knows 
'bout  it." 

I  asseverated,  in  the  most  solemn  way,  that  I  knew  nothing 
of  Lindy's  flight. 

"  You  are  a  liar,"  he  cried  out,  and  enforced  his  words  with 
another  blow. 

"  She  is  not,"  cried  Aunt  Polly,  whose  forbearance  had  now 
given  out.  This  unexpected  boldness  in  one  of  the  most  humble 
and  timid  of  his  slaves,  enraged  him  still  farther,  and  he  dealt 
her  such  a  blow  that  my  heart  aches  even  now,  as  I  think 
of  it. 

A  summons  from  one  of  the  ladies  recalled  him  to  the  house. 
Before  leaving  he  pronounced  a  desperate  threat  against  us, 
which  amounted  to  this — that  we  should  all  be  tied  to  the 
"  post,"  and  beaten  until  confession  was  wrung  from  us,  and  then 


BEASTLY    INHUMANITY.  103 

taken  to  L ,  and  sold  to  a  trader,  for  the  southern  market. 

But  I  did  not  share,  with  the  others,  that  -wondrous  dread  of 
the  fabled  horror  of  ''down  the  river."  I  did  not  believe  that 
anywhere  slavery  existed  in  a  more  brutal  and  cruel  form  than 
in  the  section  of  Kentucky  where  I  lived.  Solitary  instances 
of  kind  and  indulgent  masters  there  were ;  but  they  were  the 
few  exceptions  to  the  almost  universal  rule. 

Now,  when  Mr.  Peterkin  withdrew,  I,  forgetful  of  my  own 
wounds,  lifted  Aunt  Polly  in  my  arms,  and  bore  her,  half  senseless, 
to  the  cabin,  and  laid  her  upon  her  ragged  bed.  "  Great  God  !" 
I  exclaimed,  as  I  bent  above  her,  "  can  this  thing  last  long  ? 
How  much  longer  will  thy  divine  patience  endure  ?  How  much 
longer  must  we  bear  this  scourge,  this  crown  of  thorns,  this 
sweat  of  blood  1  Where  and  with  what  Calvary  shall  this  mar- 
tyrdom terminate  ?  Oh,  give  me  patience,  give  me  fortitude  to 
bow  to  Thy  will !  Sustain  me,  Jesus,  Thou  who  dost  know, 
hast  tasted  of  humanity's  bitterest  cup,  give  me  grace  to  bear 
yet  a  little  longer !" 

With  this  prayer  upon  my  lips  I  rose  from  the  bedside  where 
I  had  been  kneeling,  and,  taking  Aunt  Polly's  horny  hands 
within  my  own,  I  commenced  chafing  them  tenderly.  I  bathed 
her  temples  with  cold  water.  She  opened  her  eyes  languidly, 
looked  round  the  room  slowly,  and  then  fixed  them  upon  me, 
with  a  bewildered  expression.  I  spoke  to  her  in  a  gentle  tone ; 
she  pushed  me  some  distance  from  her,  eyed  me  with  a  vacant 
glance,  then,  shaking  her  head,  turned  over  on  her  side  and 
closed  her  eyes.  Believing  that  she  was  stunned  and  faint  from 
the  blow  she  had  received,  I  thought  it  best  that  she  should 
sleep  awhile.  Gently  spreading  the  coverlet  over  hex*,  I  re- 
turned to  the  kitchen,  where  the  affrighted  group  of  negroes 
yet  remained.  Stricken  by  a  panic  they  had  not  power  of  vo- 
lition. 

Casting  one  look  of  reproach  upon  Jake,  I  turned  away,  in- 
tending to  go  and  see  if  the  ladies  required  my  attention  in  the 
breakfast-room ;  but  in  the  entry,  which  separated  the  house  from 
the  kitchen,  I  encountered  Amy,  with  little  Ben  seated  upon  her 


104  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

hip.  This  is  the  usual  mode  with  nurses  in  Kentucky  of  carrying 
children.  I  have  seen  girls  actually  deformed  from  the  prac- 
tice. An  enlargement  of  the  right  hip  is  caused  by  it,  and 
Amy  was  an  example  of  this.  Had  I  been  in  a  different  mood, 
her  position  and  appearance  would  have  provoked  laughter. 
There  she  stood,  with  her  broad  eyes  wide  open,  and  glaring 
upon  me  ;  her  unwashed  face  and  uncombed  hair  were  adorned 
by  the  odd  ends  of  broken  straws  and  bits  of  hay  that  clung 
to  the  naps  of  wool ;  her  mouth  was  opened  to  its  utmost 
capacity ;  her  very  ears  were  erect  with  curiosity ;  and  her 
form  bent  eagerly  forward,  whilst  little  Ben  was  coiled  up  on 
her  hip,  with  his  sharp  eyes  peering  like  those  of  a  mouse 
over  her  shoulder. 

"  Ann,"  she  cried  out,  "  tell  me  what's  de  matter  ?  What's 
Masser  goin'  to  do  wid  us  all  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Amy,"  I  answered  in  a  faltering  tone,  for  I 
feared  much  for  her. 

*'  I  hopes  de  child'en  will  go  'long  wid  me,  an'  I'd  likes  for 
you  to  go  too,  Ann." 

I  did  not  trust  myself  to  reply ;  but,  passing  hastily  on,  en- 
tered the  breakfast-room,  where  Jane,  Tildy,  and  Miss  Bradly 
were  seated  at  the  table,  with  their  breakfast  scarcely  tasted. 
They  were  bending  over  their  plates  in  an  intensity  of  interest 
which  made  them  forget  everything,  save  their  subject  of  con- 
versation. 

''How  she  could  have  gotten  off  without  creating  ny  alarm,  is 
to  me  a  mystery,"  said  Miss  Jane,  as  she  toyed  with  her  spoon 
and  cup. 

''  Well,  old  Nick  is  in  them.  Negroes,  I  believe,  are  possessed 
by  some  demon.  They  have  the  witch's  power  of  slipping 
through  an  auger-hole,"  said  Miss  Tildy. 

"  They  are  singular  creatures,"  replied  Miss  Bradly ;  "  and  I 
fear  a  great  deal  of  useless  sympathy  is  expended  upon  them." 

"You  may  depend  there  is,"  said  Miss  Jane.  "  I  only  wish 
these  Northern  abolitionists  had  our  servants  to  deal  with.  I 
think  it  would  drive  the  philanthropy  out  of  them." 


TEMPTINGS   OF   THE    FLESH.  105 

"Indeed  -would  it,"  answered  Miss  Bradly,  as  she  took 
a  warm  roll,  and  busied  herself  spreading  butter  thereon; 
"  they  have  no  idea  of  the  trials  attending-  the  duty  of  a  mas- 
ter ;  the  patience  required  in  the  management  of  so  many 
different  dispositions.  I  think  a  residence  in  the  South  or 
South-west  would  soon  change  their  notions.  The  fact  is,  I 
think  those  fanatical  abolitionists  agitate  the  question  only  for 
political  purposes.  Now,  it  is  a  clearly-ascertained  thing,  that 
slavery  would  be  prejudicial  to  the  advancement  of  Northern 
enterprise.  The  negro  is  an  exotic  from  a  tropical  region,  hence 
lives  longer,  and  is  capable  of  more  work  in  a  warm  climate. 
They  have  no  need  of  black  labor  at  the  North ;  and  thus,  I 
think,  the  whole  affair  resolves  itself  into  a  matter  of  sectional 
gain  and  interest." 

Here  she  helped  herself  to  the  wing  of  a  fried  chicken.  It 
seemed  that  the  argument  had  considerably  whetted  her  appe- 
tite. Astonishing,  is  it  not,  how  the  loaves  and  fishes  of  this 
goodly  life  will  change  and  sway  our  opinions?  Even  sober- 
minded,  educated  people,  cannot  repress  their  pinings  after  the 
flesh-pots  of  Egypt. 

Miss  Jane  seemed  delighted  to  find  that  her  good  friend  and 
instructress  held  the  Abolition  party  in  such  contempt.  Just 
then  young  master  entered.  With  quiet,  saintly  manner, 
taking  his  seat  at  the  table,  he  said, 

"  Is  not  the  abolition  power  strong  at  the  North,  Miss  Emily  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Johnny,  'tis  comparatively  small  ;  confined,  I 
assure  you,  to  a  few  fanatical  spirits.  The  merchants  of  New 
York,  Boston,  and  the  other  Northern  cities,  carry  on  a  too  ex- 
tensive commerce  with  the  South  to  adopt  such  dangerous  senti- 
ments. There  is  a  comity  of  men  as  well  as  States ;  and  the 
clever  rule  of  '  let  alone '  is  pretty  well  observed." 

Young  master  made  no  reply  in  words,  but  fixed  his  large, 
mysterious  eyes  steadfastly  upon  her.  Was  it  mournfulness 
that  streamed,  with  a  purple  light,  from  them,  or  was  it 
a  sublimated  contempt  ?  He  said  nothing,  but  quietly  ate  his 
breakfast.  His  fare  was  as  homely  as  that  of  an  ascetic ;  he 
5* 


106         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE, 

never  used  meat,  and  always  took  bread  without  butter.  A 
simple  crust  and  glass  of  milk,  three  times  a  day,  was  his  diet. 
Miss  Jane  gave  him  a  careless  and  indifferent  glance,  then  pro- 
ceeded with  the  conversation,  totally  unconscious  of  his  pres- 
ence ;  but  again  and  again  he  cast  furtive,  anxious  glances 
toward  her,  and  I  thought  I  noticed  him  sighing. 

"  What  will  father  do  with  Lindy,  if  she  should  be  caught  V 
asked  Miss  Tildy. 

"  Send  her  down  the  river,  of  course,"  was  Miss  Jane's 
response. 

"  She  deserves  it,"  said  Miss  Tildy. 

"  Does  she  ?"  asked  the  deep,  earnest  voice  of  young  master. 

Was  it  because  he  was  unused  to  asking  questions,  or  was 
there  something  in  the  strange  earnestness  of  his  tone,  that 
made  those  three  ladies  start  so  suddenly,  and  regard  him  with 
such  an  astonished  air  ?  Yet  none  of  them  replied,  and  thus 
for  a  few  moments  conversation  ceased,  until  he  rose  from  the 
table  and  left  the  room. 

"  He  is  a  strange  youth,"  said  Miss  Bradly,  "  and  how 
wondrously  handsome  !     He  always  suggests  romantic  notions." 

"  Yes,  but  I  think  him  very  stupid.  He  never  talks  to  any 
of  us — is  always  alone,  seeks  old  and  unfrequented  spots  ; 
neither  in  the  winter  nor  summer  will  he  remain  within  doors. 
Something  seems  to  lure  him  to  the  wood,  even  when  despoiled 
of  its  foliage.  He  must  be  slightly  crazed — ma's  health  was 
feeble  for  some  time  previous  to  his  birth,  which  the  doctors 
say  has  injured  his  constitution,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised 
if  his  intellect  had  likewise  suffered."  This  speech  was  pro- 
nounced by  Miss  Tildy  in  quite  an  oracular  tone. 

Miss  Bradly  made  no  answer,  and  I  marvelled  not  at  her 
changing  color.  Had  she  not  power  to  read,  in  that  noble 
youth's  voice  and  manner,  the  high  enduring  truth  and 
singleness  of  purpose  that  dwelt  in  his  nature  ?  Though  he 
had  never  spoken  one  word  in  relation  to  slavery,  I  knew  that 
all  his  instincts  were  against  it ;  and  that  opposition  to  it  was 
the  principle  deeply  ingrained  in  his  heart. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

RECOLLECTIONS CONSOLING  INFLUENCE  OF   SYMPATHY AMY'S 

DOCTRINE    OF    THE    SOUL — TALK  AT    THE    SPRING. 

As  Mr.  Peterkin  was  passing  through  the  vestibule  of  the 
front  door,  he  met  young  master  standing  there.  Now,  this 
was  Mr.  Peterkin's  favorite  child,  for,  though  he  did  not  alto- 
gether like  that  quietude  of  manner,  which  he  called  "  poke- 
easy,"  the  boy  had  never  offered  him  any  affront  about  his  in- 
correct language,  or  treated  him  with  indignity  in  any  way. 
And  then  he  was  so  beautiful !  True,  his  father  could  not  appre- 
ciate the  spiritual  nobility  of  his  face  ;  yet  the  symmetry  of  his 
features  and  the  spotless  purity  of  his  complexion,  answered 
even  to  Mr.  Peterkin's  idea  of  beauty.  The  coarsest  and  most 
vulgar  soul  is  keenly  alive  to  the  beauty  of  the  rose  and  lily ; 
though  that  concealed  loveliness,  which  is  only  hinted  at  by  the 
rare  fragrance,  may  be  known  only  to  the  cultivated  and  poetic 
heart.  Often  I  have  heard  him  say,  ''  John  is  pretty  enoff  to  be 
a  gal." 

Now  as  he  met  him  in  the  vestibule,  he  said,  "  John,  I'm  in  a 
peck  o'  trouble." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  in  trouble  father." 

"  That  cussed  black  wench,  Lindy,  is  off,  and  I'm  'fraid  the 
neighborhood  kant  be  waked  up  soon  enough  to  go  arter  and 
ketch  her.  Let  me  git  her  once  more  in  my  clutches,  and  I'll 
make  her  pay  for  it.  I'll  give  her  one  good  bastin'  that  she'll 
'member,  and  then  I'll  send  her  down  the  river  fur  enough." 

The  boy  made  no  reply  •  but,  with  his  eyes  cast  down  on  the 
earth,  he  seemed  to  be  unconscious  of  all  that  was  going  on 
around  him.  When  he  raised  his  head  his  eyes  were  burning, 
his  breath  came  thick  and  short,  and  a  deep  scarlet  spot  shone 

[1071 


108  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

on  the  whiteness  of  his  cheek;  the  veins  in  his  forehead  lay 
like  heavy  cords,  and  his  very  hair  seemed  to  sparkle.  He 
looked  as  one  inspired.  This  was  unobserved  by  his  parent, 
who  hastily  strode  away  to  find  more  willing  listeners.  I  tar- 
ried in  a  place  where,  unnoticed  by  others,  I  commanded  a  good 
out-look.  I  saw  young  master  clasp  his  hands  fervently,  and 
heard  him  passionately  exclaim  —  "  How  much  longer,  oh, 
how  much  longer  shall  this  be  1"  Then  slowly  walking  down 
his  favorite  path,  he  was  lost  to  my  vision.  "  Blessed  youth, 
heaven-missioned,  if  thou  wouldst  only  speak  to  me !  One 
word  of  consolation  from  God-anointed  lips  like  thine,  would 
soothe  even  the  sting  of  bondage  ;  but  no,"  I  added,  "  that 
earnest  look,  that  gentle  tone,  tell  perhaps  as  much  as  it  is  ne- 
cessary for  me  to  know.  This  silence  proceeds  from  some 
noble  motive.  Soon  enough  he  will  make  himself  known  to 
us." 

In  a  little  while  the  news  of  Lindy's  departure  had  spread 
through  the  neighborhood  like  a  flame.  Our  yard  and  house 
were  filled  with  men  come  to  offer  their  services  to  their  neigh- 
bor, who,  from  his  wealth,  was  considered  a  sort  of  magnate 
among  them. 

Pretty  soon  they  were  mounted  on  horses,  and  armed  to  the 
teeth,  each  one  with  a  horn  fastened  to  his  belt,  galloping  off  in 
quest  of  the  poor  fugitive.  And  is  this  thing  done  beneath  the 
influence  of  civilized  laws,  and  by  men  calling  themselves 
Christians  ?  "What  has  armed  those  twelve  men  with  pistols, 
and  sent  them  on  an  excusion  like  this  ?  Is  it  to  redeem  a 
brother  from  a  band  of  lawless  robbers,  who  hold  him  in  cap- 
tivity ?  Is  it  to  right  some  individual  wrong  ?  Is  it  to  take  part 
with  the  weak  and  oppressed  against  the  strong  and  the  over- 
bearing ?  No,  no,  my  friends,  on  no  such  noble  mission  as  this 
have  they  gone.  "No  purpose  of  high  emprise  has  made  them 
buckle  on  the  sword  and  prime  the  pistol.  A  poor,  lone  female, 
who,  through  years,  has  been  beaten,  tyrannized  over,  and  abused, 
has  ventured  out  to  seek  what  this  constitution  professes  to  secure 
f,o  every  one— liberty.     Barefoot  and  alone,  she  has  gone  forth; 


THE    SEARCH.  109 

and  'tis  to  bring  her  back  to  a  vile  and  brntal  slavery  that  these 
men  have  sallied  out,  regardless  of  her  sex,  her  destitution,  and 
her  misery.  They  have  set  out  either  to  recapture  her  or  to 
shoot  her  down  in  her  tracks  like  a  dog.  And  this  is  a  sys- 
tem which  Christian  men  speak  of  as  heaven-ordained  !  This 
is  a  thing  countenanced  by  freemen,  whose  highest  national 
boast  is,  that  theirs  is  the  land  of  liberty,  equality,  and  free- 
rights  !  These  are  the  people  who  yearly  send  large  sums  to 
Ireland ;  who  pray  for  the  liberation  of  Hungary ;  who  wish  to 
transmit  armed  forces  across  the  Atlantic  to  aid  vassal  States  in 
securing  their  liberty  !  These  are  they  who  talk  so  largely  of 
Cuba,  expend  so  much  sympathy  upon  the  oppressed  of  other 
lands,  and  predict  the  downfall  of  England  for  her  oppressive 
form  of  government !  Oh,  America !  "  first  pluck  the  beam  out 
of  thine  own  eye,  then  shalt  thou  see  more  clearly  the  mote 
that  is  in  thy  brother's." 

When  I  watched  those  armed  men  ride  away,  in  such  high 
courage  and  eagerness  for  the  hunt,  I  thought  of  Lindy,  poor, 
lone  girl,  fatigued,  worn  and  jaded,  suffering  from  thirst  and 
hunger;  her  feet  torn  and  bruised  with  toil,  hiding  away  in 
bogs  and  marshes,  with  an  ear  painfully  acute  to  every  sound. 
I  thought  of  this,  and  all  the  resentment  I  had  ever  felt  toward 
her  faded  away  as  a  vapor. 

All  that  day  the  house  was  in  a  state  of  intense  excitement. 
The  servants  could  not  work  with  their  usual  assiduity.  Indeed, 
such  was  the  excitement,  even  of  the  white  family,  that  we 
were  not  strictly  required  to  labor. 

Miss  Jane  gave  me  some  fancy-sewing  to  do  for  her.  Taking 
it  with  me  to  Aunt  Polly's  cabin,  intending  to  talk  with  her 
whilst  time  was  allowed  me,  I  was  surprised  and  pleased  to  find 
the  old  woman  still  asleep.  "  It  will  do  her  good,"  I  thought, 
"  she  needs  rest,  poor  creature  !  And  that  blow  was  given  to 
her  on  my  account !  How  much  I  would  rather  have  received 
it  myself."  I  then  examined  her  head,  and  was  glad  to  find 
no  mark  or  bruise;  so  I  hoped  that  with  a  good  sleep  she 
would  wake  up  quite  well.     I  seated  myself  on  an  old  stool, 


110  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

near  the  door,  which,  notwithstanding  the  rawness  of  the  day, 
I  was  obliged  to  leave  open  to  admit  light.  It  was  a  cool, 
windy  morning,  such  as  makes  a  woollen  shawl  necessary.  My 
young  mistresses  had  betaken  themselves  to  cashmere  wrappers 
and  capes;  but  I  still  wore  my  thin  and  "  seedy"  calico.  As  I 
sewed  on,  upon  Miss  Jane's  embroidery,  many  fancies  came  in 
troops  through  my  brain,  defiling  like  a  band  of  ghosts  through 
each  private  gallery  and  hidden  nook  of  memory,  and  even  to 
the  very  inmost  compartment  of  secret  thought  !  My  mother, 
with  her  sad,  sorrow-stricken  face,  my  old  companions  and  play- 
fellows in  the  long-gone  years,  all  arose  with  vividness  to  my 
eye !  Where  were  they  all  ?  Where  had  they  been  during 
the  lapse  of  years  ?  Of  my  mother  I  had  never  heard  a  word. 
Was  she  dead  ?  At  that  suggestion  I  started,  and  felt  my 
heart  grow  chill,  as  though  an  icy  hand  had  clenched  it ;  yet 
why  felt  I  so  ?  Did  I  not  know  that  the  grave  would  be  to  her 
as  a  bed  of  ease  1  What  torture  could  await  her  beyond  the 
pass  of  the  valley  of  shadows  ?  She,  who  had  been  faithful 
over  a  little,  would  certainly  share  in  those  blessed  rewards 
promised  by  Christ ;  yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  heart  yearned 
to  look  upon  her  again  in  this  life.  I  could  not,  without  pain, 
think  of  her  as  one  who  had  been.  There  was  something  selfish 
in  this,  yet  was  it  intensely  human,  and  to  feel  otherwise  I 
should  have  had  to  be  less  loving,  less  filial  in  my  nature. 
"  Oh,  mother  !"  I  said,  ''if  ever  we  meet  again,  will  it  be  a  meet- 
ing that  shall  know  no  separation  ?  Mother,  are  you  changed  1 
Have  you,  by  the  white  man's  coarse  brutality,  learned  to  for- 
get your  absent  child  ?  Do  not  thoughts  of  her  often  come  to 
your  lonely  soul  with  the  sighing  of  the  midnight  wind?  Do 
not  the  high  and  merciful  stars,  that  nightly  burn  above  you, 
recall  me  to  your  heart  1  Does  not  the  child-loved  moon  speak 
to  you  of  times  when,  as  a  little  thing,  I  nestled  close  to  your 
bosom  ?  Or,  mother,  have  other  ties  grown  around  your  heart? 
Have  other  children  supplanted  your  eldest-born?  Do  chir- 
ruping lips  and  bright  eyes  claim  all  your  thoughts?  Or  do  you 
toil   alone,   broken  in   soul    and   bent   in   body,  beneath   the 


THE    YOUNG    MASTER'S    WORDS.  Ill 

drudgery  of  human  labor,  without  one  soft  voice  to  lull  you  to 
repose  ?  Oh,  bo!  this,  not  this,  kind  Heaven  !  Let  her  forget 
me,  in  her  joy;  give  her  but  peace,  and  on  me  multiply  mis- 
fortunes, rain  down  evils,  only  spare,  shield  and  protect  her." 
This  tide  of  thought,  as  it  rolled  rapidly  through  my  mind,  sent 
the  hot  tears,  in  gushes,  from  my  eyes.  As  I  bent  my  head  to 
wipe  them  away,  without  exactly  seeing  it,  I  became  aware  of 
a  blessed  presence ;  and,  lifting  my  moist  eyes,  I  beheld  young 
master  standing  before  me,  with  that  calm,  spiritual  glance 
which  had  so  often  charmed  and  soothed  me. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Ann  ?  Why  are  you  weeping  ?"  he 
asked  me  in  a  gentle  voice. 

"  Nothing,  young  Master,  only  I  was  thinking  of  my  mother." 

"  How  long  since  you  saw  her  ?" 

"  Oh,  years,  young  Master  ;  I  have  not  seen  her  since  my 
childhood — not  since  Master  bought  me." 

He  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  but  said  nothing ;  those  eyes,  with  a 
soft,  shadowed  light,  as  though  they  were  shining  through 
misty  tears,  were  bent  upon  me. 

"  Where  is  your  mother  now,  Ann  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  young  Master,  I've  never  heard  from  her 
since  I  came  here." 

Again  he  sighed,  and  now  he  passed  his  thin  white  hand 
across  his  eyes,  as  if  to  dissipate  the  mist. 

"  You  think  she  was  sold  when  you  were,  don't  you  ?" 

"  I  expect  she  was.  I'm  almost  sure  she  was,  for  I  don't 
think  either  my  young  Masters  or  Mistresses  wished  or  ex- 
pected to  retain  the  servants." 

"I  wish  I  could  find  out  something  about  her  for  you;  but, 
at  present,  it  is  out  of  my  power.  You  must  do  the  best  you 
can.  You  are  a  good  girl,  Ann  ;  I  have  noticed  how  patiently 
you  bear  hard  trouble.     Do  you  pray  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  young  Master,  and  that  is  all  the  pleasure  I  have. 
What  would  be  my  situation  without  prayer  ?  Thanks  to  God, 
the  slave  has  this  privilege  !" 

'*  Yes,  Ann,  and  in  God's  eyes  you  are  equal  to  a  white  per- 


112  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

son.  He  makes  no  distinction ;  your  soul  is  as  precious  and 
clear  to  Him  as  is  that  of  the  fine  lady  clad  in  siik  and  gems." 

I  opened  my  eyes  to  gaze  upon  him,  as  he  stood  there, 
Avith  his  beautiful  face  beaming  with  good  feeling  and  love 
for  the  humblest  and  lowest  of  God's  creatures.  This  was 
religion  !  This  was  the  spirit  which  Christ  commended.  This 
was  the  love  which  He  daily  preached  and  practiced. 

"  But  how  is  Aunt  Polly  ?  I  heard  that  she  was  suffering 
much." 

"  She  is  sleeping  easily  now,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  then,  don't  disturb  her.  It  is  better  that  she  should 
sleep  ;"  and  he  walked  away,  leaving  me  more  peaceful  and 
happy  than  before.  Blessed  youth  ! — why  have  we  not  more 
such  among  us  !  They  would  render  the  thongs  and  fetters  of 
slavery  less  galling. 

The  day  was  unusually  quiet ;  but  the  frostiness  of  the  at- 
mosphere kept  the  ladies  pretty  close  within  doors;  and  Mr. 
Peterkin  had,  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  his  family,  and  the 
injunctions  of  his  physician,  gone  out  with  the  others  upon  the 
search ;  besides,  he  had  taken  Nace  and  the  other  men  with 
him,  and,  as  Aunt  Polly  was  sick,  Ginsy  had  been  appointed 
in  her  place  to  prepare  dinner.  After  sewing  very  diligently 
for  some  time,  I  wandered  out  through  the  poultry  lot,  lost  in  a 
labyrinth  of  strange  reflection.  As  I  neared  the  path  leading  down 
toward  the  spring,  young  master's  favorite  walk,  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  follow  it  to  its  delightful  terminus, 
where  he  was  wont  to  linger  all  the  sunny  summer  day,  and 
frequently  passed  many  hours  in  the  winter  time  ?  I  was  su- 
perstitious enough  to  think  that  some  of  his  deep  and  rich 
philanthropy  had  been  caught,  as  by  inspiration,  from  this 
lovely  natural  retreat ;  for  how  could  the  child  of  such  a  low, 
beastly  parent,  inherit  a  disposition  so  heavenly,  and  a  soul  so 
spotless  1  He  had  been  bred  amid  scenes  of  the  most  revolt- 
ing cruelty  ;  had  lived  with  people  of  the  harshest  and  most 
brutal  dispositions  ;  yet  had  he  contracted  from  them  no  moral 
stain.     Were  they  not  hideous  to  look  upon,  and  was  he  not 


THE    YOUNG    MASTER'S    ADVICE.  113 

lovely  as  a  seraph  ?  Were  they  not  low  and  vulgar,  and  he 
lofty  and  celestial-minded  ?  Why  and  how  was  this  ?  Ah, 
did  I  not  believe  him  to  be  one  of  God's  blessed  angels,  lent 
us  for  a  brief  season  1 

The  path  was  well-trodden,  and  wound  and  curved  through 
the  woods,  down  to  a  clear,  natural  spring  of  water. 
There  had  been  made,  by  the  order  of  young  master,  a  turfet- 
ted  seat,  overgrown  by  soft  velvet  moss,  and  here  this  youth 
wimld  sit  for  hours  to  ponder,  and,  perhaps,  to  weave  golden  fan- 
cies which  were  destined  to  ripen  into  rich  fruition  in  that  land 
beyond  the  shores  of  time.  As  I  drew  near  the  spring,  I 
imagined  that  a  calm  and  holy  influence  was  settling  over  me. 
The  spirit  of  the  place  had  power  upon  me,  and  I  yielded  my- 
self to  the  spell.  It  was  no  disease  of  fancy,  or  dream  of  en- 
chantment, that  thus  possessed  me ;  for  there,  half-reclining  on 
the  mossy  bench,  I  beheld  young  master,  and,  seated  at  his 
feet,  with  her  little,  odd,  wondering  face  uplifted  to  his,  was 
Amy  ;  and,  crawling  along,  playing  with  the  moss,  and  looking 
down  into  the  mirror  of  the  spring,  peered  the  bright  eyes  of 
little  Ben.  It  was  a  scene  of  such  beauty  that  I  paused  to 
take  a  full  view  of  it,  before  making  my  presence  known. 
Young  master,  with  his  pale,  intellectual  face,  his  classic  head, 
his  sun-bright  curls,  and  his  earnest  blue  eyes,  sat  in  a  half- 
lounging  attitude,  making  no  inappropriate  picture  of  an  angel 
of  light,  whilst  the  two  little  black  faces  seemed  emblems  of 
fallen,  degraded  humanity,  listening  to  his  pleading  voice. 

"  Wherever  you  go,  or  in  whatever  condition  you  may  be, 
Amy,  never  forget  to  pray  to  the  good  Lord."  As  he  said  this, 
he  bent  his  eyes  compassionately  on  her. 

"  Oh,  laws,  Masser,  how  ken  I  pray !  de  good  Lord  wouldn't 
hear  me.     I  is  too  black  and  dirty." 

"  God  does  not  care  for  that.  You  are  as  dear  to  Him  as  the 
finest  lady  of  the  land." 

"  Oh,  now,  Masser,  you  doesn't  tink  me  is  equal  to  you,  a 
fine,  nice,  pretty  white  gemman — dress  so  fine." 

"  God  cares  not,  my  child,  for  clothes,  or  the  color  of  the  skin. 


114  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

He  values  the  heart  alone ;  and  if  your  heart  is  clear,  it  matters 
not  whether  your  face  be  black  or  your  clothes  mean." 

"  Laws,  now,  young  Masser,"  and  the  child  laughed  heartily 
at  the  idea,  "  you  doesn't  'spect  a  nigger's  heart  am  clean.  I 
tells  you  'tis  black  and  dirty  as  dere  faces." 

"  My  poor  child,  I  would  that  I  had  power  to  scatter  the 
gloomy  mist  that  beclouds  your  mind,  and  let  you  see  and  know 
that  our  dying  Saviour  embraced  all  your  unfortunate  race  in 
the  merits  of  his  divine  atonement." 

This  speech  was  not  comprehended  by  Amy.  She  sat 
looking  vacantly  at  him  ;  marvelling  all  the  while  at  his  pretty 
talk,  yet  never  once  believing  that  Jesus  prized  a  negro's  soul. 
Young  master's  eyes  were,  as  usual,  elevated  to  the  clear,  ma- 
jestic heavens.  Not  a  cloud  floated  in  the  still,  serene  expanse, 
and  the  air  was  chill.  One  moment  longer  I  waited,  before  re- 
vealing myself.  Stepping  forward,  I  addressed  young  master 
in  an  humble  tone. 

"  Well,  Ann,  what  do  you  want  ?"  This  was  not  said  in  a 
petulant  voice,  but  with  so  much  gentleness  that  it  invited  the 
burdened  heart  to  make  its  fearful  disclosure. 

"  Oh,  young  Master,  I  know  that  you  will  pardon  me  for  what 
I  am  going  to  ask.  I  cannot  longer  restrain  myself.  Tell  me 
what  is  to  become  of  us  ?  When  shall  we  be  sold  ?  Into  whose 
hands  shall  I  fall  ?" 

"  Alas,  poor  Ann,  I  am  as  ignorant  of  father's  intentions  as 
you  are.  I  would  that  1  could  relieve  your  anxiety,  but  I  am 
as  uneasy  about  it  as  you  or  any  one  can  be.  Oh,  I  am  power- 
less to  do  anything  to  better  your  unfortunate  condition.  I  am 
weak  as  the  weakest  of  you." 

"  I  know,  young  Master,  that  we  have  your  kindest  sympathy, 
and  this  knowledge  softens  my  trouble." 

He  did  not  reply,  but  sat  with  a  perplexed  expression,  look- 
ing on  the  ground. 

''  Oh,  Ann,  you  has  done  gin  young  Masser  some  trouble. 
What  fur  you  do  dat  ?     We  niggers  ain't  no  'count  any  how, 


THE    RELIEF    OF   SYMPATHY.  115 

and  yon  hab  no  sort  ob  bisiness  be  troublin'  young  Masser  'bout 
it,"  said  Amy. 

"  Be  still,  Amy,  let  Ann  speak  her  troubles  freely.  It  will 
relieve  her  mind.     You  may  tell  me  of  yours  too." 

Sitting  down  upon  the  sward,  close  to  his  feet,  I  relieved  my 
oppressed  bosom  by  a  copious  flood  of  tears.  Still  he  spoke  not, 
but  sat  silent,  looking  down.  Amy  was  awed  into  stillness, 
and  even  little  Ben  became  calm  and  quiet  as  a  lamb.  No  one 
broke  the  spell.  No  one  seemed  anxious  to  do  so.  There  are 
some  feelings  for  which  silence  is  the  best  expression. 

At  length  he  said  mildly,  "Now,  my  good  friends,  it  might  be 
made  the  subject  of  ungenerous  remarks,  if  you  were  to  be  seen 
talking  with  me  long.     You  had  better  return  to  the  house." 

As  Amy  and  I,  with  little  Ben,  rose  to  depart,  he  looked  after 
us,  and  sighing,  exclaimed,  "  poor  creatures,  my  heart  bleeds 
for  you !" 


CHAPTEE  XIY. 

THE     PRATTLINGS     OF    INSANITY — OLD   WOUNDS     REOPEN — THE 
WALK    TO    THE    DOCTOR'S — INFLUENCE    OF    NATURE. 

Upon  my  return  to  the  house  I  hastened  on  to  the  cabin, 
hoping  to  find  Aunt  Polly  almost  entirely  recovered.  Passing 
hastily  through  the  yard  I  entered  the  cabin  with  a  light  step, 
and  to  my  surprise  found  her  sitting  up  in  a  chair,  playing  with 
some  old  faded  artificial  flowers,  the  dilapidated  decorations  of 
Miss  Tildy's  summer  bonnet,  which  had  been  swept  from  the 
house  with  the  litter  on  the  day  before.  I  had  never  seen  her 
engaged  in  a  pastime  so  childish  and  sportive,  and  was  not  a 
little  astonished,  for  her  aversion  to  flowers  had  often  been  to 
me  the  subject  of  remark. 

"What  have  you  there  that  is  pretty,  Aunt  Polly  V  I  asked 
with  tenderness. 

With  a  wondering,  childish  smile,  she  held  the  crushed  blos- 
soms up,  and  turning  them  over  and  over  in  her  hands,  said: 

"Putty  things!  ye  is  berry  putty!"  then  pressing  them  to 
her  bosom,  she  stroked  the  leaves  as  kindly  as  though  she  had 
been  smoothing  the  truant  locks  of  a  well-beloved  child.  I  could 
not  understand  this  freak,  for  she  was  one  to  whose  uncultured 
soul  all  sweet  and  pretty  fancies  seemed  alien.  Looking  up  to 
me  with  that  vacant  glance  which  at  once  explained  all,  she 
said : 

"  Who's  dar  ?  Who  is  you  ?  Oh,  dat  is  my  darter,"  and  ad- 
dressing me  by  the  remembered  name  of  her  own  long-lost  child, 
she  traversed,  in  thought,  the  whole  waste-field  of  memory.  Not 
a  single  wild-flower  in  the  wayside  of  the  heart  was  neglected  or 
forgotten.     She  spoke  of  times  when  she  had  toyed  and  dandled 

[116] 


INSANE    PRATTLE.  11? 

her  infant  darling  npon  her  knee  ;  then,  shudderingly,  she  would 
wave  me  off,  with  terror  written  all  over  her  furrowed  face,  and 
cry,  ''  Get  you  away,  Masser  is  comin' :  thar,  thar  he  is ;  see 
him  wid  de  ropes  ;  he  is  comin'  to  tar  you  'way  frum  me.  Here, 
here  child,  git  under  de  bed,  hide  frum  'em,  dey  is  all  gwine  to 
take  you  'way — 'way  down  de  river,  whar  you'll  never  more  see 
yer  poor  old  mammy."  Then  sinking  upon  her  knees,  with  her 
hands  outstretched,  and  her  eyes  eagerly  strained  forward,  and 
bent  on  vacancy,  she  frantically  cried : 

"  Masser,  please,  please  Masser,  don't  take  my  poor  chile  from 
me.  It's  all  I  is  got  on  dis  ar'  airth ;  Masser,  jist  let  me  hab  it 
and  I'll  work  fur  you,  I'll  sarve  you  all  de  days  ob  my  life. 
You  may  beat  my  ole  back  as  much  as  you  please  ;  you  may 
make  me  work  all  de  day  and  all  de  night,  jist,  so  I  ken  keep 
my  chile.  Oh,  God,  oh,  God  !  see,  dere  dey  goes,  wid  my  poor 
chile  screaming  and  crying  for  its  mammy  1  See,  see  it  holds 
its  arms  to  me  !  Oh,  dat  big  hard  man  struck  it  sich  a  blow. 
Now,  now  dey  is  out  ob  sight."  And  crawling  on  her  knees, 
with  arms  outspread,  she  seemed  to  be  following  some  imagin- 
ary object,  until,  reaching  the  door,  I  feared  in  her  transport 
of  agony  she  would  do  herself  some  injury,  and,  catching  her 
strongly  in  my  arms,  I  attempted  to  hold  her  back  ;  but  she  was 
endowed  with  a  superhuman  strength,  and  pushed  me  violently 
against  the  wall. 

"  Thar,  you  wretch,  you  miserble  wretch,  dat  would  keep 
me  from  my  chile,  take  dat  blow,  and  I  wish  it  would  send  yer 
to  yer  grave." 

Recoiling  a  few  steps,  I  looked  at  her.  A  wild  and  lurid 
light  gathered  in  her  eye,  and  a  fiendish  expression  played 
over  her  face.  She  clenched  her  hands,  and  pressed  her  old 
broken  teeth  hard  upon  her  lips,  until  the  blood  gushed  from 
them ;  frothing  at  the  mouth,  and  wild  with  excitement,  she 
made  an  attempt  to  bound  forward  and  fell  upon  the  floor.  I 
screamed  for  help,  and  sprang  to  lift  her  up.  Blood  oozed  from 
her  mouth  and  nose  ;  her  eyes  rolled  languidly,  and  her  under- 
jaw  fell  as  though  it  were  broken. 


118         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

In  terror  I  bore  her  to  the  bed,  and,  laying  her  down,  I  went 
to  get  a  bowl  of  water  to  wash  the  blood  and  foam  from  her 
face.  Meeting  Amy  at  the  door,  I  told  her  Aunt  Polly  was 
very  sick,  and  requested  her  to  remain  there  until  my  re- 
turn. _ 

I  fled  to  the  kitchen,  and  seizing  a  pan  of  water  tbat  stood 
upon  the  shelf,  returned  to  the  cabin.  There  I  found  young 
master  bending  over  Aunt  Polly,  and  wiping  the  blood-stains 
from  her  mouth  and  nose  with  his  own  handkerchief.  This  was, 
indeed,  the  ministration  of  the  high  to  the  lowly.  This  gener- 
ous boy  never  remembered  the  distinctions  of  color,  but  with 
that  true  spirit  of  human  brotherhood  which  Christ  inculcated 
by  many  memorable  examples,  he  ministered  to  the  humble, 
the  lowly,  and  the  despised.  Indeed,  such  seemed  to  take  a 
firmer  hold  upon  his  heart.  Here,  in  this  lowly  cabin,  like  the 
good  Samaritan  of  old,  he  paused  to  bind  up  the  wounds  of  a 
poor  outcast  upon  the  dreary  wayside  of  existence. 

Bending  tenderly  over  Aunt  Polly,  until  his  luxuriant  golden 
curls  swept  her  withered  face,  he  pressed  his  linen  handkerchief 
to  her  mouth  and  nose  to  staunch  the  rapid  flow  of  blood. 

'' Oh,  Ann,  have  you  come  with  the  water  ?  I  fear  she  is 
almost  gone  ;  throw  it  in  her  face  with  a  slight  force,  it  may  re- 
vive her,"  he  said  in  a  calm  tone. 

I  obeyed,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  consciousness.  After  one 
or  two  repetitions  she  moved  a  little,  young  master  drew  a 
bottle  of  sal  volatile  from  his  pocket,  and  applied  it  to  her  nose- 
The  effect  was  sudden  ;  she  started  up  spasmodically,  and  look- 
ing round  the  room  laughed  wildly,  frightfully  ;  then,  shaking 
her  head,  her  face  resumed  its  look  of  pitiful  imbecility. 

"The  light  is  quenched,  and  forever,"  said  young  master, 
and  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  and  rolled  slowly  down  his 
cheeks.  Amy,  .with  Ben  in  her  arms,  stood  by  in  anxious 
wonder;  creeping  up  to  young  master's  side,  she  looked  earnestly 
in  his  face,  saying — 

"  Don't  cry,  Masser,  Aunt  Polly  will  soon  be  well ;  she  jist 
sick  for  little  while.      De  lick  Masser  gib  her  only  hurt  her 


THE  PURE  ONE'S  PRAYER.  119 

little  time, — she  'most  well  now,  but  her  does  look  mighty 
wild." 

"  Oh,  Lord,  how  much  longer  must  these  poor  people  be  tried 
in  the  furnace  of  affliction  ?  How  much  longer  wilt  thou  per- 
mit a  suffering  race  to  endure  this  harsh  warfare  ?  Oh,  Divine 
Father,  look  pityingly  down  on  this  thy  humble  servant,  who 
is  so  sorely  tried."  The  latter  part  of  the  speech  was  uttered 
as  he  sank  upon  his  knees ;  and  down  there  upon  the  coarse 
puncheon  floor  we  all  knelt,  young  master  forming  the  central 
figure  of  the  group,  whilst  little  Amy,  the  baby-boy  Ben,  and 
the  poor  lunatic,  as  if  in  mimicry,  joined  us.  We  surrounded 
him,  and  surely  that  beautiful  heart-prayer  must  have  reached 
the  ear  of  God.  When  such  purity  asks  for  grace  and  mercy 
upon  the  poor  and  unfortunate,  the  ear  of  Divine  grace  listens, 

"  What  fur  you  pray  ?"  asked  the  poor  lunatic. 

"  I  ask  mercy  for  sore  souls  like  thine." 

"  Oh,  dat  is  funny;  but  say,  sir,  whar  is  my  chile  ?  Wliar  is 
she  ?  Why  don't  she  come  to  me  ?  She  war  here  a  minnit 
ago ;  but  now  she  does  be  gone  away." 

"  Oh,  what  a  mystery  is  the  human  frame  !  Lyre  of  the 
spirit,  how  soon  is  thy  music  jarred  into  discord."  Young 
master  uttered  this  rhapsody  in  a  manner  scarcely  audible,  but 
to  my  ear  no  sound  of  his  was  lost,  not  a  word,  syllable,  or 
tone  ! 

"  Poor  Luce — is  dat  Luce  ?"  and  the  poor,  crazed  creature 
stared  at  me  with  a  bewildered  gaze!  "  and  my  baby-boy,  whar 
is  he,  and  my  oldest  sons  ?  Dey  is  all  gone  from  me  and  for  • 
ever."     She  began  to  weep  piteously. 

"  Watch  with  her  kindly  till  I  send  Jake  for  the  doctor,"  he 
said  to  me  ;  then  rallying  himself,  he  added,  "but  they  are  all 
gone — gone  upon  that  accursed  hunt ;"  and,  seating  himself  in 
a  chair,  he  pressed  his  fingers  hard  upon  his  closed  eye-lids. 
"  Stay,  I  will  go  myself  for  the  doctor — she  must  not  be  neg- 
lected." 

And  rising  from  his  chair  he  buttoned  his  coat,  and,  charg- 
ing me  to   take   good  care   of  her,  was   about    starting,    but 


120  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE, 

Aunt  Polly  sprang  forward  and  caught  him  by  the  arms,  ex- 
claiming, 

"  Oh,  putty,  far  angel,  don't  leab  me.  I  kan't  let  you  leab 
me — stay  here.  I  has  no  peace  when  you  is  gone.  Dey  will 
come  and  beat  me  agin,  and  dey  will  take  my  chil'en  frum  me. 
Oh,  please  now,  you  stay  wid  me." 

And  she  held  on  to  him  with  such  a  pitiful  fondness,  and  there 
was  so  much  anxiety  in  her  face,  such  an  infantile  look  of  ten- 
derness, with  the  hopeless  vacancy  of  idiocy  in  the  eye,  that  to 
refuse  her  would  have  been  harsh  ;  and  of  this  young  master 
was  incapable.     So,  turning  to  me,  he  said, 

"  You  go,  Ann,  for  the  doctor,  and  I  will  stay  with  her — poor 
old  creature  I  have  never  done  anything  for  her,  and  now  I  will 
gratify  her." 

As  the  horses  had  all  been  taken  by  the  pursuers  of  Lindy,  I 
was  forced  to  walk  to  Dr.  Mandy's  farm,  which  was  about  two 
miles  distant  from  Mr.  Peterkin's.  I  was  glad  of  this,  for  of 
late  it  was  indeed  but  seldom  that  I  had  been  allowed  to  indulge 
in  a  walk  through  the  woods.  All  through  the  leafy  glory  of 
the  summer  season  I  had  looked  toward  the  old  sequestered 
forest  with  a  longing  eye.  Each  little  bird  seemed  wooing 
me  away,  yet  my  occupations  confined  me  closely  to  the  house ; 
and  a  pleasure-walk,  even  on  Sunday,  was  a  luxury  which  a 
negro  might  dream  of  but  never  indulge.  Now,  though  it  was 
the  lonely  autumn  time,  yet  loved  I  still  the  woods,  dismantled 
as  they  were.  There  is  something  in  the  grandeur  of  the  ven- 
erable forests,  that  always  lifts  the  soul  to  devotion  !  The  patri- 
archal trees  and  the  delicate  sward,  the  wind-music  and  the 
almost  ceaseless  miserere  of  the  grove,  elevate  the  heart,  and  to 
the  cultivated  mind  speak  with  a  power  to  which  that  of  books 
is  but  poor  and  tame. 


CHAPTEE    XV. 

QUIETUDE  OF  THE  WOODS — A  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  STRANGER — MRS. 
MANDY'S  WORDS  OF  CRUEL  IRONY — SAD  REFLECTIONS. 

The  freshening  breeze,  tempered  with  the  keen  chill  of  the 
coming  winter,  made  a  lively  music  through  the  woods,  as,  float- 
ing along,  it  toyed  with  the  fallen  leaves  that  lay  dried  and  sere 
upon  the  earth.  There  stood  the  giant  trees,  rearing  their  bald 
and  lofty  heads  to  the  heavens,  whilst  at  their  feet  was  spread 
their  splendid  summer  livery.  Like  the  philosophers  of  old,  in 
their  calm  serenity  they  looked  away  from  earth  and  its  troubles 
to  the  "  bright  above." 

I  wandered  on,  with  a  quick  step,  in  the  direction  of  the 
doctor's.  The  recent  painful  events  were  not  calculated  to  color 
my  thoughts  very  pleasingly ;  yet  I  had  taught  myself  to  live 
so  entirely  within,  to  be  so  little  affected  by  what  was  without, 
that  I  could  be  happy  in  imagination,  notwithstanding  what  was 
going  on  in  the  external  world.  'Tis  well  that  the  negro  is  of 
an  imaginative  cast.  Suppose  he  were  by  nature  strongly  prac- 
tical and  matter-of-fact ;  life  could  not  endure  with  him.  His 
dreaminess,  his  fancy,  makes  him  happy  in  spite  of  the  dreary 
reality  which  surrounds  him.  The  poor  slave,  with  not  a  six- 
pence in  his  pocket,  dreams  of  the  time  when  he  shall  be  able 
to  buy  himself,  and  revels  in  this  most  delightful  Utopia. 

I  had  walked  on  for  some  distance,  without  meeting  any  object 
of  special  interest,  when,  passing  through  a  large  "deadening," 
I  was  surprised  to  see  a  gentleman  seated  upon  a  fragment  of 
what  had  once  been  a  noble  tree.  He  was  engaged  at  that  oc- 
cupation which  is  commonly  considered  to  denote  want  of 
thought,  viz.,  whittling  a  stick. 

[121] 


122  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

I  stopped  suddenly,  and  looked  at  him  very  eagerly,  for  now, 
with  the  broad  day -light  streaming  over  him,  I  recognized  the  one 
whom  I  had  watched  in  the  dubious  moonbeams  !  This  was  Mr. 
Robert  Worth,  the  man  who  held  those  dangerous  Abolition  prin- 
ciples— the  fanatic,  who  was  rash  enough  to  express,  south  of 
Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  the  opinion  that  negroes  are  human 
beings  and  entitled  to  consideration.  Here  now  he  was,  and  I 
could  look  at  him.  How  I  longed  to  speak  to  him,  to  talk  with 
him,  hear  him  tell  all  his  generous  views ;  to  ask  questions  as  to 
those  free  Africans  at  the  North  who  had  achieved  name  and 
fame,  and  learn  more  of  the  distinguished  orator,  Frederick 
Douglass  !  So  great  Avas  my  desire,  that  I  was  almost  ready 
to  break  through  restraint,  and,  forgetful  of  my  own  position, 
fling  myself  at  his  feet,  and  beg  him  to  comfort  me.  Then  came 
the  memory  of  Miss  Bradly's  treachery,  and  I  sheathed  my 
heart.  "  No,  no,  I  will  not  again  trust  to  white  people.  They 
have  no  sympathy  with  us,  our  natures  are  too  simple  for  their 
cunning;"  and,  reflecting  thus,  I  walked  on,  yet  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
not  pass  him.  He  had  spoken  so  nobly  in  behalf  of  the  slave, 
had  uttered  such  lofty  sentiments,  that  my  whole  soul  bowed 
down  to  him  in  worship.  I  longed  to  pay  homage  to  him. 
There  is  a  principle  in  the  slave's  nature  to  reverence,  to  look 
upward ;  hence,  he  makes  the  most  devout  Christian,  and  were 
it  not  for  this  same  spirit,  he  would  be  but  a  poor  servant. 

So  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  let  pass  this  opportunity  of 
speaking  with  one  whom  I  held  in  such  veneration  ;  but  I  gov- 
erned myself  and  went  on.*  All  the  distance  I  was  pondering 
upon  what  I  had  heard  in  relation  to  those  of  my  brethren  who 
had  found  an  asylum  in  the  North.  Oh,  once  there,  I  could 
achieve  so  much  !  I  felt,  within  myself,  a  latent  power,  that, 
under  more  fortunate  circumstances,  might  be  turned  to  advan- 
tage. "When  I  reached  Doctor  Mandy's  residence  I  found  that 
he  had  gone  out  to  visit  a  patient.  His  wife  came  out  to  see 
me,  and  asked, 

"  Who  is  sick  at  Mr.  Peterkin's  ?" 

I  told  her,  "Aunt  Polly,  the  cook." 


THE    DOCTOR'S   WIFE.  123 

"  Is  much  the  matter  ?" 

"  Yes,  Madam  ;  young  master  thinks  she  has  lost  her  rea- 
son." 

"  Lost  her  reason  1"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mandy. 

"  Yes,  Madam  ;  she  doesn't  seem  to  know  any  of  us,  and 
evidently  wanders  in  her  thoughts."  I  could  not  repress  the 
evidence  of  emotion  when  I  rememhered  how  kind  to  me  the 
old  creature  had  been,  nay,  that  for  me  she  had  received  the 
blow  which  had  deprived  her  of  reason. 

"  Poor  girl,  don't  cry,"  said  Mrs.  Mandy.  This  lady  was  of 
a  warm,  good  heart,  and  was  naturally  touched  at  the  sight  of 
human  suffering ;  she  was  one  of  that  quiet  sort  of  beings  who 
feel  a  great  deal  and  say  but  little.  Fearful  of  giving  offence, 
she  usually  kept  silence,  lest  the  open  expression  of  her  sym- 
pathy should  defeat  the  purpose.  A  weak,  though  a  good  per- 
son, she  now  felt  annoyed  because  she  had  been  beguiled  into 
even  pity  for  a  servant.  She  did  not  believe  in  slavery,  yet 
she  dared  not  speak  against  the  "  peculiar  institution  "  of  the 
South.  It  would  injure  the  doctor's  practice,  a  matter  about 
which  she  must  be  careful. 

I  knew  my  place  too  well  to  say  much  ;  therefore  I  Observed 
a  respectful  silence. 

"  Now,  Ann,  you  had  better  hurry  home.  I  expect  there  is 
great  excitement  at  your  house,  and  the  ladies  will  need  your 
services  to-day,  particularly  ;  to  remain  out  too  long  might  ex- 
cite suspicion,  and  be  of  no  service  to  you." 

My  looks  plainly  showed  how  entire  was  my  acquiescence. 
She  must  have  known  this,  and  then,  as  if  self-interest  sug- 
gested it,  she  said, 

"  You  have  a  good  home,  Ann,  I  hope  you  will  never  do  as 
Lindy  has  done.  Homes  like  yours  are  rare,  and  should  be 
appreciated.  Where  will  you  ever  again  find  such  kind  mis- 
tresses and  such  a  good  master?" 

"  Homes  such  as  mine  are  rare  !"  I  would  that  they  were  ; 
but,  alas!  they  are  too  common,  as  many  farms  in  Kentucky  can 
show  !     Oh,  what  a  terrible  institution  this  one  must  be,  which 


124  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A   FKMALE    SLAVE. 

originates  and  involves  so  many  crimes  !  Now,  here  was  a 
kind,  honest-hearted  woman,  who  felt  assured  of  the  criminality 
of  slavery ;  yet,  as  it  is  recognized  and  approved  by  law,  she 
could  not,  save  at  the  risk  of  social  position,  pecuniary  loss  and 
private  inconvenience,  even  express  an  opinion  against  it.  I 
was  the  oppressed  slave  of  one  of  her  wealthy  neighbors  ;  she 
dared  not  offer  me  even  a  word  of  pity,  but  needs  must  outrage 
all  my  nature  by  telling  me  that  I  had  a  ''  good  home,  kind 
mistresses  and  a  good  master!"  Oh,  bitter  mockery  of  torn  and 
lacerated  feelings  !  My  blood  curdled  as  I  listened.  How 
much  I  longed  to  fling  aside  the  servility  at  which  my  whole 
soul  revolted,  and  tell  her,  with  a  proud  voice,  how  poorly  I 
thought  she  supported  the  dignity  of  a  true  womanhood,  when 
thus,  for  the  poor  reward  of  gold,  she  could  smile  at,  and  even 
encourage,  a  system  which  is  at  war  with  the  best  interest  of 
human  nature;  which  aims  a  deadly  blow  at  the  very  machinery 
of  society ;  aye,  attacks  the  noble  and  venerable  institution  of 
marriage,  and  breaks  asunder  ties  which  God  has  commanded 
us  to  reverence  !  This  is  the  policy  of  that  institution,  which 
Southern  people  swear  they  will  support  even  with  their  life- 
blood  !  I  have  ransacked  my  brain  to  find  out  a  clue' to  the 
wondrous  infatuation.  I  have  known,  during  the  years  of  my 
servitude,  men  who  had  invested  more  than  half  of  their  wealth 
in  slaves ;  and  he  is  generally  accounted  the  greatest  gentle- 
man, who  owns  the  most  negroes.  Now,  there  is  a  reason  for 
the  Louisiana  or  Mississippi  planter's  investing  largely  in  this 
sort  of  property ;  but  why  the  Kentucky  farmer  should  wish 
to  own  slaves,  is  a  mystery  :  surely  it  cannot  be  for  the  petty 
ambition  of  holding  human  beings  in  bondage,  lording  it  over 
immortal  souls  !  Oh,  perverse  and  strange  human  nature  ! 
Thoughts  like  these,  with  a  lightning-like  power,  drove  through 
my  brain  and  influenced  my  mind  against  Mrs.  Mandy,  who, 
I  doubt  not,  was,  at  heart,  a  kind,  well-meaning  woman.  How 
can  the  slave  be  a  philanthropist  ? 

Without  saying  anything  whereby  my  safety  coiild  be  im- 
perilled, I  left  Mrs.  Mandy's  residence.     When  I  had  walked 


BITTER    REFLECTIONS.  125 

about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  I  turned  and  looked  back, 
and  was  surprised  to  see  her  looking  after  me.  "  Oh,  white 
woman,"  I  inwardly  exclaimed,  "  nursed  in  luxury,  reared  in 
the  lap  of  bounty,  with  friends,  home  and  kindred,  that  mortal 
power  cannot  tear  you  from,  how  can  you  pity  the  poor,  op- 
pressed slave,  who  has  no  liberty,  no  right,  no  father,  no  brother, 
or  friend,  only  as  the  white  man  chooses  he  shall  have  !"  Who 
could  expect  these  children  of  wealth,  fostered  by  prosperity, 
and  protected  by  the  law,  to  feel  for  the  ignorant  negro,  who 
through  ages  and  generations  has  been  crushed  and  kept  in 
ignorance  1  We  are  told  to  love  our  masters  !  Why  should 
we  ?  Are  we  dogs  to  lick  the  hand  that  strikes  us  1  Or  are 
we  men  and  women  with  never-dying-  souls — men  and  women 
unprotected  in  the  very  land  they  have  toiled  to  beautify  and 
adorn  !  Oh,  little,  little  do  ye  know,  my  proud,  free  brothers 
and  sisters  in  the  North,  of  all  the  misery  we  endure,  or  of 
the  throes  of  soul  that  we  have!  The  humblest  of  us  feel  that 
we  are  deprived  of  something  that  we  are  entitled  to  by  the 
law  of  God  and  nature. 

I  rambled  on  through  the  woods,  wrapped  in  the  shadows  of 
gloom  and  misanthropy.  "Why,"  I  asked  myself, ''  can't  I  be  ahog 
or  dog  to  come  at  the  call  of  my  owner  ?  Would  it  not  be  better 
for  me  if  I  could  repress  all  the  lofty  emotions  and  generous  im- 
pulses of  my  soul,  and  become  a  spiritless  thing  ?  I  would  swap 
natures  with  the  lowest  insect,  the  basest  serpent  that  crawls  upon 
the  earth.  Oh,  that  I  could  quench  this  thirsty  spirit,  satisfy 
this  hungry  heart,  that  craveth  so  madly  the  food  and  drink  of 
knowledge!  Is  it  right  to  conquer  the  spirit,  which  God  has 
given  us  ?  Is  it  best  for  a  high-souled  being  to  sit  supinely 
down  and  bear  the  vile  trammels  of  an  unnatural  and  immoral 
bondage  ?  Are  these  aspirings  sent  us  from  above  ?  Are  they 
wings  lent  the  spirit  from  an  angel  1  Or  must  they  be  clipped 
and  crushed  as  belonging  to  the  evil  spirit  ?"  As  I  walked  on, 
in  this  state  of  mind,  I  neared  the  spot  where  I  had  beheld  the 
interesting  stranger. 

To  my  surprise  and  joy  I  found  him  still  there,  occupied  as 


126  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

before,  in  whittling,  perhaps  the  same  stick.  Yon,  my  free 
friends,  who,  from  the  fortunate  accident  of  birth,  are  entitled 
to  the  heritage  of  liberty,  can  but  poorly  understand  how  very 
humble  and  degraded  American  slavery  makes  the  victim. 
Nov/,  though  I  knew  this  man  possessed  the  very  information 
for  which  I  so  longed,  I  dared  not  presume  to  address  him  on  a 
subject  even  of  such  vital  import.  I  dare  say,  and  indeed  after- 
times  proved,  this  young  apostle  of  reform  would  have  applauded 
as  heroism  what  then  seemed  to  me  as  audacity. 

With  many  a  lingering  look  toward  him,  I  pursued  the  "  noise- 
less tenor  of  my  way." 


CHAPTEE    XVI. 

A     REFLECTION  —  AMERICAN   ABOLITIONISTS  —  DISAFFECTION    IN 
KENTUCKY THE    YOUNG    MASTER HIS    REMONSTRANCE. 

Upon  my  arrival  home  I  found  that  the  doctor,  lured  hy 
curiosity,  and  not  by  business,  had  called.  The  news  of  Lindy's 
flight  had  reached  him  in  many  garbled  and  exaggerated  forms; 
so  he  had  come  to  assure  himself  of  the  truth.  Of  course,  with 
all  a  Southern  patriot's  ire,  he  pronounced  Lindy's  conduct  an 
atrocious  crime,  for  which  she  should  answer  with  life,  or  that 
far  worse  penalty  (as  some  thought),  banishment  "down  the 
river."  Thought  I  not  strangely,  severely,  of  those  persons, 
the  doctor  and  the  ladies,  as  they  sat  there,  luxuriating  over  a 
bottle  of  wine,  denouncing  vengeance  against  a  poor,  forlorn 
girl,  who  was  trying  to  achieve  her  liberty ; — heroically  con- 
tending for  that  on  which  Americans  pride  themselves  ?  Had 
she  been  a  Hungarian  or  an  Irish  maid,  seeking  an  asylum  from 
the  tyranny  of  a  King,  she  would  have  been  applauded  as  one 
whose  name  was  worthy  to  be  enrolled  in  the  litany  of  heroes  ; 
but  she  was  a  poor,  ignorant  African,  with  a  sooty  face,  and  be- 
cause of  this  all  sympathy  was  denied  her,  and  she  was  pronounced 
nothing  but  a  "runaway  negro,"  who  deserved  a  terrible  punish- 
ment ;  and  the  hand  outstretched  to  relieve  her,  would  have 
been  called  guilty  of  treason.  Oh,  wise  and  boastful  Americans, 
see  ye  no  oppression  in  all  this,  or  do  ye  exult  in  that  odious  spot, 
which  will  blacken  the  fairest  page  of  your  history  "  to  the  last 
syllable  of  recorded  time"  ?  Does  not  a  blush  stain  your  cheeks 
when  you  make  vaunting  speeches  about  the  character  of  your 
government  ?  Ye  cannot,  I  know  ye  cannot,  be  easy  in  your 
consciences  ;  I  know  that  a  secret,  unspoken  trouble  gnaws  like 
6*  C12T1 


128  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

a  canker  in  your  breasts  !  Many  of  you  veil  your  eyes,  and 
grope  through  the  darkness  of  this  domestic  oppression  ;  you 
will  not  listen  to  the  cries  of  the  helpless,  but  sit  supinely  down 
and  argue  upon  the  ''  right"  of  the  thing.  There  were  kind  and 
tender-hearted  Jews,  who  felt  that  the  crucifixion  of  the  Mes- 
siah was  a  fearful  crime,  yet  fear  sealed  their  lips.  And  are 
there  not  now  time-serving  men,  who  are  worthy  and  capable 
of  better  things,  but  from  motives  of  policy  will  offer  no  word 
against  this  barbarous  system  of  slavery  ?  Oh,  show  me  the 
men,  like  that  little  handful  at  the  North,  who  are  willing  to 
forfeit  everything  for  the  maintenance  of  human  justice  and 
mercy.  Blessed  apostles,  near  to  the  mount  of  God  !  your  lips 
have  been  touched  with  the  flame  of  a  new  Pentecost,  and  ye 
speak  as  never  men  spake  before  !  Who  that  listens  to  the 
words  of  Parker,  Sumner,  and  Seward,  can  believe  them  other 
than  inspired  ?  Theirs  is  no  ordinary  gift  of  speech  ;  it  burns 
and  blazes  with  a  mighty  power  !  Cold  must  be  the  ear  that 
hears  them  unmoved ;  and  hard  the  heart  that  throbs  not  in 
unison  with  their  noble  and  earnest  expressions  !  Often  have  I 
paused  in  this  little  book,  to  render  a  feeble  tribute  to  these  great 
reformers.  It  may  be  thought  out  of  place,  yet  I  cannot  repress 
the  desire  to  speak  my  voluntary  gratitude,  and,  in  the  name 
of  all  my  scattered  race,  thank  them  for  the  noble  efforts  they 
have  made  in  our  behalf ! 

All  the  malginity  of  my  nature  was  aroused  against  Miss 
Bradly,  when  I  heard  her  voice  loudest  in  denunciation  against 
Lindy. 

As  I  was  passing  through  the  room,  I  could  catch  fragments 
of  conversation  anything  but  pleasing  to  the  ear  of  a  slave  ; 
but  I  had  to  listen  in  meekness,  letting  not  even  a  working 
muscle  betray  my  dissent.  They  were  orthodox,  and  would  not 
tolerate  even  from  an  equal  a  word  contrary  to  their  views. 

I  did  not  venture  to  ask  the  doctor  what  he  thought  of  Aunt 
Polly,  for  that  would  have  been  called  impudent  familiarity, 
punishable  with  wiphping  at  the  "  post ;"  but  when  I  met  young 
master  in  the  entry,  I  learned  from  him  that  the  case  was  one 


DISAFFECTED    KENTUCKIANS  129 

of  hopeless  insanity.  Blood-letting,  &c.,  had  been  resorted  to, 
hut  with  no  effect.  The  doctor  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the 
case  was  "  without  remedy."  Not  knowing  that  yonng  master 
differed  from  Iris  father  and  sisters,  the  doctor  had,  in  his  jocose 
and  unfeeling  way,  suggested  that  it  iras  not  much  difference ; 
the  old  thing  was  of  hut  little  value  ;  she  was  old  and  worn-out. 
To  all  this  young  master  made  no  other  reply  than  a  fixed  look 
from  his  meek  eyes — a  look  which  the  doctor  could  not  under- 
stand ;  for  the  idea  of  sympathy  with  or  pity  for  a  slave  would 
have  struck  him  as  being  a  thing  existing  only  in  the  bosom  of 
a  fanatical  abolitionist,  whose  conviction  would  not  permit  him 
to  cross  the  line  of  Mason  and  Dixon.  Ah !  little  knew  he  (the 
coarse  doctor)  what  a  large  heart  full  of  human  charities  had 
grown  within ;  nay,  was  indigenous  to  this  south-western  lati- 
tude. I  believe,  yes  have  reason  to  know,  that  the  pure  senti- 
ment of  abolition  is  one  that  is  near  and  dear  to  the  heart  of 
many  a  Kentuckian  ;  even  those  who  are  themselves  the  here- 
ditary holders  of  slaves  are,  in  many  instances,  the  most  opposed 
to  the  system.  This  sentiment  is,  perhaps,  more  largely  de- 
veloped in,  and  more  openly  expressed  by,  the  females  of  the 
State ;  and  this  is  accounted  for  from  the  fact  that  to  be  sus- 
pected of  abolition  tendencies  is  at  once  the  plague-mark 
whereby  a  man  is  ever  after  considered  unfit  for  public 
trust  or  political  honor.  It  is  the  great  question,  the  strong 
conservative  element  of  society.  To  some  extent  it  likewise 
taboos,  in  social  circles,  the  woman  who  openly  expresses  such 
sentiments ;  though  as  she  has  no  popular  interests  to  stake,  in 
many  cases  her  voice  will  be  on  the  side  of  right,  not  might. 

In  later  years  I  remember  to  have  overheard  a  colloquy  be- 
tween a  lady  and  gentleman  (both  slaveholders)  in  Kentucky. 
The  gentleman  had  vast  possessions,  about  one-third  of  which 
consisted  of  slaves.  The  lady's  entire  wealth  was  in  six  negroes, 
some  of  them  under  the  age  of  ten.  They  were  hired  out  at 
the  highest  market  prices,  and  by  the  proceeds  she  was  sup- 
ported. She  had  been  raised  in  a  strongly  conservative  com- 
munity ;  nay,  her  own  family  were  (to  use  a  Kentuckyism)  the 


130  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

"  pick  and  choose"  of  the  pro-slavery  party.  Some  of  them 
had  been  considered  the  able  vindicators  of  the  "  system  ;"  yet 
she,  despite  the  force  of  education  and  the  influence  of  domestic 
training,  had  broken  away  from  old  trammels  and  leash-strings, 
and  was,  both  in  thought  and  expression,  a  bold,  ingrain  aboli- 
tionist. She  defied  the  lions  in  their  chosen  dens.  On  the  oc- 
casion of  this  conversation,  I  heard  her  say  that  she  could  not 
remain  happy  whilst  she  detained  in  bondage  those  creatures 
who  could  claim,  under  the  Constitution,  alike  with  her,  their 
freedom  ;  and  so  soon  as  she  attained  her  majority,  she  intended 
to  liberate  them.  "  But,"  said  she — and  I  shall  never  forget 
the  mournful  look  of  her  dark  eye — "  the  statute  of  the  State 
will  not  allow  them  to  remain  here  ten  days  after  liberation  ; 
and  one  of  these  men  has  a  wife  (to  whom  he  is  much  attached), 
who  is  a  slave  to  a  master  that  will  neither  free  her  nor  sell  her- 
Now,  this  poor  captive  husband  would  rather  remain  in  slavery 
to  me,  than  be  parted  from  his  wife ;  and  here  is  the  point  upon 
which  I  always  stand.  I  wish  to  be  humane  and  just  to  him ; 
and  yet  rid  myself  from  the  horrid  crime  to  which,  from  the  ac- 
cident of  inheritance,  I  have  become  accessory."  The  gentle- 
man, who  seemed  touched  by  the  heroism  of  the  girl,  was 
beguiled  into  a  candid  acknowledgment  of  his  own  sentiments  ; 
and  freely  declared  to  her  that,  if  it  were  not  for  his  political 
aspirations,  he  would  openly  free  every  slave  he  owned,  and 
relieve  his  conscience  from  the  weight  of  the  "  perilous  stuff  "  that 
so  oppressed  it.  "  But,"  said  he,  ''  were  I  to  do  it  in  Kentucky, 
I  should  be  politically  dead.  It  would,  besides,  strike  a  blow 
at  my  legal  practice,  and  then  what  could  I  do  ?  '  Othello's 
occupation  would  be  gone.'  Of  what  avail,  then,  would  be  my 
'  quiddits,  quillets  ;  my  cases,  tenures  and  my  tricks  V  I,  who 
am  high  in  political  favor,  should  live  to  read  my  shame.  I, 
who  now  '  tower  in  my  pride  of  place,  should,  by  some  mousing 
owl,  be  hawked  at  and  killed.'  No,  I  must  burden  my  con- 
science yet  a  little  longer." 

The  lady,  with  all  a  young  girl's  naive  and  beautiful  enthusi- 
asm, besought  him  to  disregard   popular  praise    and  worldly 


THE    REMONSTRANCE.  131 

distinction.  "  Seek  first,"  said  she,  "  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
and  all  things  else  shall  be  given  yon ;"  bnt  the  gentleman  had 
grown  hard  in  this  world's  devious  wiles.  He  preferred  throw- 
ing off  his  allegiance  to  Providence,  and,  single-handed  and 
alone,  making  his  fate.  Talk  to  me  of  your  thrifty  men,  your 
popular  characters,  and  I  instantly  know  that  you  mean  a 
cringing,  parasitical  server  of  the  populace ;  one  who  sinks 
soul,  spirit  and  manly  independence  for  the  mere  garments  that 
cover  his  perishable  body,  and  to  whom  the  empty  plaudits 
of  the  unthinking  crowd  are  better  music  than  the  thankful 
prayer  of  suffering  humanity.  Let  such  an  one,  I  say,  have  his 
full  measure  of  the  "  clapping  of  hands,"  let  him  hear  it  all  the 
while ;  for  he  cannot  see  the  frown  that  darkens  the  brow  of 
the  guardian  angel,  who,  with  a  sigh,  records  his  guilt.  Go  on, 
thou  worldly  Pharisee,  but  tbe  day  will  come,  when  the  lowly 
shall  be  exalted.  Trust  and  wait  we  longer.  Ob,  ye  who 
"  know  the  right,  and  yet  the  wrong  pursue,"  a  fearful  reckoning 
will  be  yours. 

But  young  master  was  not  of  this  sort ;  I  felt  that  his  lips 
were  closed  from  other  and  higher  motives.  If  it  had  been  of 
any  avail,  no  matter  what  the  cost  to  himself,  he  would  have 
spoken.  His  soul  knew  but  one  sentiment,  and  that  was  ''  love 
to  God  and  good  will  to  men  on  earth."  And  now,  as  he  en- 
tered the  room  where  the  doctor  and  the  ladies  were  seated, 
and  listened  to  their  heartless  conversation,  he  planted  himself 
firmly  in  their  midst,  sajung  : 

"  Sisters,  the  time  has  come  when  I  must  speak.  Patiently 
have  I  lived  beneath  this  my  fathers  roof,  and  witnessed,  with- 
out uttering  one  word,  scenes  at  which  my  whole  soul  revolted ; 
I  have  heard  that  which  has  driven  me  from  your  side.  On  my 
bare  knees,  in  the  gloom  of  the  forest,  I  have  besought  God  to 
soften  your  hearts.  I  have  asked  that  the  dew  of  mercy  might 
descend  upon  the  hoary  head  of  my  father,  and  that  womanly 
gentleness  might  visit  your  obdurate  hearts.  I  have  felt  that  I 
could  give  my  life  up  a  sacrifice  to  obtain  this ;  but  my  un- 
worthy prayers  have  not  yet  been  answered.     In  vainr  in  vain, 


132  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

I  have  hoped  to  see  a  change  in  you.  Are  you  women  or 
fiends  ?  How  can  you  persecute,  to  the  death,  poor,  ignorant 
creatures,  whose  only  fault  is  a  black  skin  ?  How  can  you  in- 
humanly beat  those  who  have  no  protectors  but  you  ?  Reverse 
the  case,  and  take  upon  yourselves  their  condition ;  how  would 
you  act  ?  Could  you  bear  silently  the  constant  "  wear  and 
tear  "  of  body,  the  perpetual  imprisonment  of  the  soul  ?  Could 
you  surrender  yourselves  entirely  to  the  keeping  of  another, 
and  that  other  your  primal  foe — one  who  for  ages  bas  had  his 
arm  uplifted  against  your  race  ?  Suppose  you  every  day 
witnessed  a  board  groaning  with  luxuries  (tbe  result  of  your 
labor)  devoured  by  your  persecutors,  whilst  you  barely  got  the 
crumbs  ;  your  owners  dressed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  whilst 
you  wore  the  coarsest  material,  though  all  their  luxury  was  the 
product  of  your  exertion  ;  what  think  you  would  be  right  for 
you  to  do  ?  Or  suppose  I,  whilst  lingering  at  the  little  spring, 
should  be  stolen  off,  gagged  and  taken  to  Algiers,  kept  there  in 
servitude,  compelled  to  the  most  drudging  labor  ;  poorly  clad 
and  scantily  fed  whilst  my  master  lived  like  a  prince  ;  kept  in 
constant  terror  of  the  lash ;  punished  severely  for  every  venial 
offence,  and  my  poor  heart  more  lacerated  than  my  body; — 
what  would  you  think  of  me,  if  a  man  were  to  tell  me  that, 
with  his  assistance,  I  could  make  my  escape  to  a  land  of  liberty, 
where  my  rights  would  be  recognized,  and  my  person  safe  from 
violence ;  I  say  what  would  you  think,  if  I  were  to  decline, 
and  to  say  I  preferred  to  remain  with  the  Algerines  V  He 
paused,  but  none  replied.  With  eyes  wonderingly  fixed  upon 
him,  the  group  remained  silent. 

"  You  are  silent  all,"  he  continued,  "  for  conviction,  like  a 
swift  arrow,  has  struck  your  souls.  Oh,  Cod  1"  and  he  raised 
his  eyes  upward,  "out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  let 
wisdom,  holiness  and  truth  proceed.  Touch  their  flinty  hearts, 
and  let  the  spark  of  grace  be  emitted  !  Oh,  sisters,  know  ye 
not  that  this  Algerine  captivity  that  I  have  painted,  is  but  a 
poor  picture  of  the  daily  martyrdom  which  our  slaves  endure  ? 
Look  on  that  old  woman,  who,  by  a  brutal  blow  from  our  father. 


THE    REPRIMAND.  133 

has  been  deprived  of  her  reason.  Look  at  that  little  haggard 
orphan,  Amy,  who  is  the  kicked  football  of  you  all.  Look  at 
the  poor  men  whom  we  have  brutalized  and  degraded.  Think 
of  Lindy,  driven  by  frenzy  to  brave  the  passage  to  an  unknown 
country  rather  than  longer  endure  what  we  have  put  upon  her. 
Gaze,  till  your  eyes  are  bleared,  upon  that  whipping-post,  which 
rises  upon  our  plantation  ;  it  is  wet,  even  now,  with  the  blood 
that  has  gushed  from  innocent  flesh.  Look  at  the  ill-fed,  ill- 
clothed  creatures  that  live  among  us;  and  think  they  have  im- 
mortal souls,  which  we  have  tried  to  put  out.  Oh,  ponder  well 
upon  these  things,  and  let  this  poor,  wretched  girl,  who  has 
sallied  forth,  let  her  go,  I  say,  to  whatever  land  she  wishes,  and 
strive  to  forget  the  horrors  that  haunted  her  here." 

Again  he  paused,  but  none  of  them  durst  reply.  Inspired  by 
their  silence,  he  went  on  : 

"  And  from  you,  Miss  Bradly,  I  had  expected  better 
things.  You  were  reared  in  a  State  where  the  brutality  of  the 
slave  system  is  not  tolerated.  Your  early  education,  your 
home  influences,  were  all  against  it.  Why  and  how  can  your 
womanly  heart  turn  away  from  its  trae  instincts  1  Is  it  for  you, 
a  Northerner  and  a  woman,  to  put  up  your  voice  in  defence  of 
slavery  ?  Oh,  shame  !  triple-dyed  shame,  should  stain  your 
cheeks !  "Well  may  my  sisters  argue  for  slavery,  when  you, 
their  teacher,  aid  and  abet  them.  Could  you  not  have  instilled 
better  things  into  their  minds  ?  I  know  full  well  that  your 
heart  and  mind  are  against  slavery ;  but  for  the  ease  of  living 
in  our  midst,  enjoying  our  bounty,  and  receiving  our  money, 
you  will  silence  your  soul  and  forfeit  your  principles.  Yea,  for 
a  salary,  you  will  pander  to  this  horrid  crime.  Judas,  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver,  sold  the  Redeemer  of  the  world  ;  but  what  re- 
morse followed  the  dastard  act  !  You  will  yet  live  to  curse  the 
hour  of  your  infamy.  You  might  have  done  good.  Upon  the 
waxen  minds  of  these  girls  you  might  have  written  noble  things, 
but  you  would  not." 

I  watched  Miss  Bradly  closely  whilst  he  was  speaking. 
She  turned  white  as  a  sheet.     Her  countenance  bespoke  the 


134  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

convicted  woman.  Not  an  eye  rested  upon  her  but  read  the 
truth.  Starting  up  at  length  from  her  chair,  Miss  Jane  shouted 
out,  in  a  theatrical  way, 

''Treason!  treason  in  our  own  household,  and  from  one  of 
our  own  number !  And  so,  Mr.  John,  you  are  the  abolitionist 
that  has  sown  dissension  and  discontent  among  our  domestics. 
We  have  thought  you  simple ;  but  I  discover,  sir,  you  are 
more  knave  than  fool.  Father  shall  know  of  this,  and  take 
steps  to  arrest  this  treason." 

"  As  you  please,  sister  Jane  ;  you  can  make  what  report  you 
please,  only  speak  the  truth  " 

At  this  she  flew  toward  him,  and,  catching  him  by  the  collar, 
slapped  his  cheeks  severely. 

"  Right  well  done,"  said  a  clear,  manly  voice;  and,  looking 
up,  I  saw  Mr.  Worth  standing  in  the  open  door.  "  I  have  been 
knocking,"  said  he,  "for  full  five  minutes;  but  I  am  not  sur- 
prised that  you  did  not  hear  me,  for  the  strong  speech  to  which 
I  have  listened  had  force  enough  to  overpower  the  sound  of  a 
thunder-storm." 

Miss  Jane  recoiled  a  few  steps,  and  the  deepest  crimson 
dyed  her  cheeks.  She  made  great  pretensions  to  refinement, 
and  could  not  bear,  now,  that  a  gentleman  (even  though  an 
abolitionist)  should  see  her  striking  her  brother.  Miss  Tildy 
assumed  the  look  of  injured  innocence,  and  smilingly  invited 
Mr.  Worth  to  take  a  seat. 

"  Do  not  be  annoyed  by  what  you  have  seen.  Jane  is  not 
passionate ;  but  the  boy  was  rude  to  her,  and  deserved  a 
reproof." 

Without  making  a  reply,  but,  with  his  eye  fixed  on  young 
master,  Mr.  Worth  took  the  offered  seat.  Miss  Bradly,  with 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  moved  not ;  and  the  doctor  sat 
playing  with  his  half-filled  glass  of  wine  ;  but  young  master 
remained  standing,  his  eye  flashing  strangely,  and  a  bright  crim- 
son spot  glowing  on  either  cheek.  He  seemed  to  take  no  note 
of  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Worth,  or  in  fact  any  of  the  group. 
There  he  stood,  with  his  golden  locks  falling  over  his  white 


MR.    WORTH.  135 

brow  ;  and  calm  serenity  resting  like  a  sunbeam  on  bis  face. 
Very  majestic  and  imposing  was  that  youthful  presence.  High 
determination  and  everlasting  truth  were  written  upon  his 
face.  With  one  look  and  a  murmured  "  Father  forgive  them, 
for  they  know  not  wbat  they  do,"  he  turned  away. 

'*■  Stop,  stop,  my  brave  boy,"  cried  Mr.  Worth,  "  stop,  and 
let  me  look  upon  you.  Had  the  South  but  one  voice,  and  that 
one  yours,  this  country  would  soon  be  clear  of  its  great  dis- 
honor." 

To  this  young  master  made  no  spoken  reply  ;  but  the  clear 
smile  that  lit  his  countenance  expressed  his  thanks  ;  and  seeing 
that  Mr.  Worth  was  resolved  to  detain  him,  he  said, 

"  Let  me  go,  good  sir,  for  now  I  feel  that  I  need  the  woods," 
and  soon  his  figure  was  gliding  along  his  well-beloved  path,  in 
the  direction  of  the  spring.  Who  sball  say  that  solitary  com- 
muning with  Nature  unfits  the  soul  for  active  life  ?  True,  indeed, 
it  does  unfit  it  for  baseness,  sordid  dealings,  and  low  detraction, 
by  lifting  it  from  its  low  condition,  and  sending  it  out  in  a  broad 
excursiveness. 

Here,  in  the  case  of  young  master,  was  a  sweet  and 
glowing  flower  that  had  blossomed  in  the  wilds,  and  been 
nursed  by  nature  only.  The  country  air  had  fanned  into  bloom 
the  bud  of  virtue  and  the  beauty  of  highest  truth. 


CHAPTEE    XVII. 

THE  RETURN    OF   THE    HUNTERS    FLUSHED  WITH    SUCCESS —  MR. 
PETERKIN'S    VAGARY. 

As  young  Master  strode  away,  Misses  Jane  and  Tildy  re- 
garded each  other  in  silent  wonder.  At  length  the  latter, 
who  caught  the  cue  from  her  sister,  hurst  forth  in  a  violent 
laugh,  that  I  can  define  only  hy  calling  it  a  romping  laugh, 
so  full  of  forced  mirth.  Miss  Jane  took  up  the  echo,  and  the 
house  resounded  with  their  assumed  merriment.  No  one  else, 
however,  seemed  to  take  the  infection ;  and  they  had  the  fun 
all  to  themselves. 

"  Well,  Ann,"  said  Miss  Tildy,  putting  on  a  quizzical  air,  "  I 
suppose  you  have  heen  very  much  edified  hy  your  young  mas- 
ter's explosion  of  philanthropy  and  good-will  toward  you 
darkies." 

Too  well  I  knew  my  position  to  make  an  answer ;  so  there 
I  stood,  silent  and  submissive. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  this  young  renegade  has  delivered  aho- 
lition  lectures  in  the  kitchen  hall,  to  his  '  dearly  belubed'  bred- 
eren  ob  de  colored  race,''  added  Miss  Matilda,  intending  to  be 
vastly  witty. 

"I  think  we  had  better  send  him  on  to  an  Anti-slavery  con- 
vention, and  give  him  a  seat  'twixt  Lucy  Stone  and  Fred 
Douglas.  Wouldn't  his  white  complexion  contrast  well  with 
that  of  the  sable  orator  ?"  and  this  Miss  Jane  designed  should 
be  exceedingly  pungent. 

Still  no  one  answered.  Mr.  Worth's  face  wore  a  troubled 
expression  ;  the  doctor  still  played  with  his  wine-glass ;  and 
Miss  Bradly's  face  was  buried  deeper  in  her  hands. 

[136] 


CAPTURE   OF   LINDY.  137 

"  Suppose  father  had  been  here ;  what  do  you  think  he 
would  have  said?"  asked  Miss  Jane. 

This,  no  doubt,  recalled  Dr.  Mandy  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pe- 
terkin's  patronage  was  well  worth  retaining,  so  he  must  speak 
now. 

"  Oh,  your  father,  Miss  Jane,  is  such  a  sensible  man,  that  he 
would  consider  it  only  the  freak  of  an  imprudent  beardless 
boy." 

"  Is,  then,"  I  asked  myself,  "  all  expressed  humanity  but 
idle  gibberish  ?  Is  it  only  beardless  boys  who  can  feel  for 
suffering  slaves  ?  Is  all  noble  philanthropy  voted  vapid  by 
sober,  serious,  reflecting  manhood  1  If  so,  farewell  hope,  and 
welcome  despair  !"  I  looked  at  Mr.  Worth;  but  his  face  was 
rigid,  and  a  snowy  pallor  overspread  his  gentle  features.  He 
was  young,  and  this  was  his  first  visit  to  Kentucky.  In  his 
home  at  the  North  he  had  heard  many  stories  of  the  manner 
in  which  slavery  was  conducted  in  the  West  and  South ;  but 
the  stories,  softened  by  distance,  had  reached  him  in  a  mild 
form,  consequently  he  was  unprepared  for  what  he  had  wit- 
nessed since  his  arrival  in  Kentucky.  He  had,  though  desir- 
ing liberty  alike  for  all,  both  white  and  black,  looked  upon  the 
system  as  an  unjust  and  oppressive  one,  but  he  had  no  thought 
that  it  existed  in  the  atrocious  and  cruel  form  which  fact,  not 
report,  had  now  revealed  to  him.  His  whole  soul  shuddered 
and  shrivelled  at  what  he  saw.  He  marvelled  how  the  skies 
could  be  so  blue  and  beautiful ;  how  the  flowers  could  spring 
so  lavishly,  and  the  rivers  roll  so  majestically,  and  the  stars 
burn  so  brightly  over  a  land  dyed  with  such  horrible  crimes. 

'•  Father  will  not  deal  very  leniently  with  this  boy's  follies  ; 
he  will  teach  Johnny  that  there's  more  virtue  in  honoring  a 
father,  than  in  equalizing  himself  with  negroes."  Here  Miss 
Jane  tossed  her  head  defiantly. 

Just  then  a  loud  noise  was  heard  from  the  avenue,  and,  look- 
ing out  the  window,  we  descried  the  hunters  returning  crowned 
with  exultation,  for,  alas  !  poor  Lindy  had  been  found,  and 
there,  handcuffed,  she  marched  between  a  guard  of  Jake   on 


138  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

the  one  side,  and  Dan  on  the  other.  There  were  marks  of 
blood  on  her  brow,  and  her  dress  was  here  and  there  stained. 
Cool  as  was  the  day,  great  drops  of  perspiration  rolled  off  her 
face.  With  her  head  bowed  low  on  her  breast,  she  walked  on 
amid  the  ribald  jests  of  her  persecutors. 

"  Well,  we  has  cotch  dis  'ere  runaway  gal,  and  de  way  we 
did  chase  her  down  is  nuffen  to  nobody,"  said  old  Nace,  who 
had  led  the  troop.  "  I  tells  you  it  jist  takes  dis  here  nigger 
and  his  hounds  to  tree  the  runaway.  I  reckons,  Miss  Lindy, 
you'll  not  be  fur  trying  ob  it  agin." 

"No,  dat  hab  fixed  her,"  replied  the  obsequious  Jake.  Dan 
laughed  heartily,  showing  his  stout  teeth. 

"  Now,  Masser,"  said  Nace,  as  taking  off  his  remnant  of  a 
hat  he  scraped  his  foot  back,  and  grinned  terribly,  "  dis  ar1 
nigger,  if  you  pleases,  sar,  would  like  to  hab  a  leetle  drap  ob 
de  critter  dat  you  promise  to  him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  black  rascal,  you  wants  some  ob  my  fust-rate 
whiskey,  does  you  ?  Wal,  I  'spects,  as  you  treed  dat  ar* 
d d  nigger-wench,  you  desarves  a  drap  or  so." 

"  Why,  yes,  Masser,  you  see  as  how  I  did  do  my  best  for  to 
ketch  her,  and  I  is  right  much  tired  wid  de  run.  You  sees  dese 
old  legs  is  gettin'  right  stiff;  dese  jints  ain't  limber  like  Jake 
and  Dan's  dar,  yet  I  tink,  Masser,  I  did  de  bestest,  an'  I  ought 
to  hab  a  leetle  drap  de  most,  please,  sar." 

''  Come,  'long,  come  'long,  boys,  arter  we  stores  dis  gal  away 
I'll  gib  you  yer  dram." 

There  had  stood  poor  Lindy,  never  once  looking  up,  crest- 
fallen, broken  in  heart,  and  bruised  in  body,  awaiting  a  painful 
punishment,  scarce  hoping  to  escape  with  life  and  limb.  Strik- 
ing her  a  blow  with  his  huge  riding-whip,  Mr.  Peterkin  shouted, 
"  off  with  you  to  the  lock-up  !" 

Now,  that  which  was  technically  termed  the  "  lock-up,"  was 
an  old,  strong  building,  which  had  once  been  used  as  a  smoke- 
house, but  since  the  erection  of  a  new  one,  was  employ- 
ed for  the  very  noble  purpose  of  confining  negroes.  It  was 
a  dark,  damp  place,  without  a  window,  and  but  one  low  door, 


MR.  PETERKIN'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  CAPTURE.      139 

through  which  to  enter.  In  this  wretched  place,  hound  and 
manacled,  the  poor  fugitive  was  thrust. 

"  There,  you  may  run  off  if  you  ken,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin,  as 
he  drew  the  rough  door  to,  and  fastened  on  the  padlock  with 
the  dignified  air  of  a  regularly-installed  jailer.  "  Now,  boys, 
come  'long  and  git  the  liquor." 

This  pleasing  announcement  seemed  to  give  an  additional  im- 
petus to  the  spirits  of  the  servants,  and,  with  many  a  "ha,  ha, 
ha,"  they  followed  their  master. 

"  Well,  father,"  said  Miss  Jane,  whilst  she  stood  beside  Mr. 
Peterkin,  who  was  accurately  measuring  out  a  certain  quantity 
of  whiskey  to  the  three  smiling  slaves,  who  stood  holding  their 
tin  cups  to  receive  it,  "  I  am  glad  you  succeeded  in  arresting 
that  audacious  runaway.  Where  did  you  find  her  ?  Who 
was  with  her  1  How  did  she  behave  ?  Oh,  tell  me  all  about 
the  adventure ;  it  really  does  seem  funny  that  such  a  thing 
should  have  occurred  in  our  family  ;  and  now  that  the  wretch 
has  been  caught,  I  can  afford  to  laugh  at  it." 

"  Wal,"  answered  Mr.  Peterkin,  as  he  replaced  the  cork  in 
the  brown  jug,  and  proceeded  to  lock  it  up  in  his  private 
closet,  "  you  does  ax  the  most  questions  in  one  breath  of  any 
gal  I  ever  seed  in  all  my  life.  Why,  I  haint  bin  in  the  house 
five  minutes,  and  you  has  put  more  questions  to  me  than  a 
Philadelphy  lawyer  could  answer.  'Pon  my  soul,  Jane,  you 
is  a  fast  'un." 

"  Never  mind  my  fastness,  father,  but  tell  me  what  I  asked." 

"  Wal,  whar  is  I  to  begin  ?  You  axed  whar  Lindy  was 
found  ?  These  dogs  hunted  her  to  Mr.  Farland's  barn.  Thar 
they  'gan  to  smell  and  snort  round  and  cut  up  all  sorts  of 
capers,  and  old  Nace  dumb  up  to  the  hay  loft,  and  sung  out, 
in  a  loud  voice,  '  Here  she  am,  here  she  am.'  Then  I  hearn 
a  mighty  scrambling  and  skufflin'  up  dar,  so  I  jist  springed  up 
arter  Nace,  and  thar  was  the  gal,  actually  fightin'  with  Nace, 
who  wanted  to  fetch  her  right  down  to  the  ground  whar  we 
was  a  waitin'.  I  tells  you,  now,  one  right  good  lick  from  my 
powder-horn  fetched  her  all   right.     She  soon  seen  it  was  no 


140  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

kind  of  use  to  be  opposin'  of  us,  and  so  she  jist  sot  down  right 
willin'.  I  then  fetched  several  good  licks,  and  she  knowed 
how  to  do,  kase,  when  I  seed  I  had  drawed  the  blood,  I  didn't 
kere  to  beat  her  any  more.  So  I  ordered  her  to  git  down  out- 
en  that  ar'  loft  quicker  than  she  got  up.  Then  we  bound  her 
hands,  and  driv  her  long  through  the  woods  like  a  bull.  I  tells 
you  she  was  mighty -much  'umbled  and  shamed ;  every  now  and 
thin  she'd  blubber  out  a  cryin',  but  my  whup  soon  shot  up  her 
howlin'." 

"I've  a  great  notion  to  go,"  said  Jane,  "and  torment  her  a 
little  more,  the  impudent  hussy  !  I  wonder  if  she  thinks  we 
will  ever  take  her  back  to  live  with  us.  She  has  lost  a  good 
home,  for  she  shall  not  come  here  any  more.  I  want  you  to 
sell  her,  father,  and  at  the  highest  price,  to  a  regular 
trader."' 

"  That  will  I  do,  and  there  is  a  trader  in  this  very  neighbor- 
hood now.  I'll  ride  over  this  arternoon  and  make  'rangements 
with  him  fur  her  sale.  But  come,  Jane,  I  is  powerful  hungry ; 
can't  you  git  me  something  to  eat  ?" 

"  But,  father,  I  have  a  word  to  say  with  you  in  private,  draw 
near  me." 

"  "What  ails  you  now,  gals?"  he  said,  as  Miss  Tildy  joined 
them,  with  a  perplexed  expression  of  countenance.  As  he 
drew  close  to  them  I  heard  Miss  Jane  say,  through  her  clenched 
teeth,  in  a  hissing  tone  : 

"  Old  Polly  is  insane  ;  lost  her  reason  from  that  blow  which 
you  gave  her.     Do  you  think  they  could  indict  you  ?" 

"  Who,  in  the  name  of  h — 1,  can  say  that  I  struck  her  ?  Who 
saw  it  ?  No,  I'd  like  fur  to  see  the  white  man  that  would  dar 
present  Jeems  Peterkin  afore  the  Grand  Jury,  and  a  nigger 
darn't  think  of  sich  a  thing,  kase  as  how  thar  testimony  ain't 
no  count." 

"  Then  we  are  safe,"  both  of  the  ladies  simultaneously  cried. 

"  But  whar  is  that  d d  old  hussy  ?     She  ain't  crazy,  only 

'possuming  so  as  to  shuffle  outen  the  work.  Let  me  git  to  her 
once,  and  I'll  be  bound  she  will  step  as  smart  as  ever.     One 


BRUTALITY.  141 

shake  of  the  old  cowhide  will  make  her  jump  and  talk  as  sen- 
sible as  iver  she  did." 

"  'Tisn't  worth  while,  father,  going  near  her.  I  tell  you, 
Doctor  Mandy  says  she  is  a  confirmed  lunatic." 

•'  I  tells  yer  I  knows  her  constitution  better  'an  any  of 
yer,  doctors,  and  all ;  and  tbis  here  cowhide  is  allers  the  best 
medicine  fur  niggers  ;  they  ain't  like  the  white  folks,  no  how  nor 
ways." 

So  saying  he,  followed  by  his  daughters,  went  to  the  cabin 
where  poor  Aunt  Polly  was  sitting,  in  all  the  touching  simpli- 
city of  second  childhood,  playing  with  some  bits  of  ribbon, 
bright-colored  calico,  and  flashy  artificial  flowers.  Looking  up 
with  a  vacant  stare  at  the  group  she  spoke  not,  but,  slowly 
shaking  her  head  in  an  imbecile  way,  murmured  : 

"  These  are  putty,  but  yer  mustn't  take  'em  frum  me  ;  dese 
am  all  dat  dis  ole  nigger  hab  got,  dese  here  am  fadder,  mudder, 
hustbund,  an  chile.     Lit  me  keep  'em. 

"  You  old  fool,  what's  you  'bout,  gwine  on  at  this  here  rate  ? 
Don't  you  know  I  is  yer  master,  and  will  beat  the  very  life 
outen  yer,  if  yer  don't  git  up  right  at  once?" 

"Now  who  is  yer?  Sure  now,  an'  dis  old  nigger  doesn't 
know  yer.  Yer  is  a  great  big  man,  dat  looks  so  cross  and  bad 
at  me.  I  wish  yer  would  go  on  'bout  yer  own  bisness,  and  be 
a  lettin  me  'lone.     I  ain't  a  troublin'  of  yer,  no  way." 

"  You  ain't,  arnt  yer,  you  old  fool  ?  but  I'll  give  yer  a  drap  of 
medicine  that'll  take  the  craze  outen  yer,  and  make  yer  know 
who  yer  master  is.  How  does  you  like  that,  and  this,  and  this  ?" 
and,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  dealt  her  bloAv  after  blow, 
in  the  most  ferocious  manner.  Her  shoulders  were  covered 
with  blood  that  gushed  from  the  torn  flesh.  A  low  howl  (it 
could  only  be  called  a  howl)  burst  from  her  throat,  and  fling- 
ing up  her  withered  hands,  she  cried,  "  Oh,  good  Lord  Jesus, 
come  and  help  thy  poor  old  servant,  now  in  dis  her  sore  time 
ob  trouble." 

"  The  Lord  Jesus  won't  hear  sich  old  nigger  wretches  as  you," 
said  Mr.  Peterkin. 


142  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Oli,  yes,  de  Lord  Jesus  will.  He  'peared  to  me  but  a  leetle 
bit  ago,  and  lie  was  all  dressed  in  white,  wid  a  gold  crown  upon 
His  head,  and  His  face  war  far  and  putty  like  young  Masser's, 
only  it  seemed  to  be  heap  brighter,  and  he  smiled  at  dis  poor 
old  sufferin'  nigger;  and  den  'peared  like  a  low,  little  voice  'way 
down  to  de  bottom  ob  my  heart  say,  Polly,  be  ob  good  cheer, 
de  Lord  Jesus  is  comin'  to  take  you  home.  He  no  care  weder 
yer  skin  is  white  or  black.  He  is  gwine  fur  to  make  yer  happy 
in  de  next  world.  Oh,  den  me  feel  so  good,  me  no  more  care 
for  anything." 

"All  of  this  is  a  crazy  fancy,"  said  Dr.  Mand}^,  who  stepped 
into  the  cabin  ;  but  taking  hold  of  Polly's  wrist,  and  holding  his 
fingers  over  her  pulse,  his  countenance  changed.  "  She  has  ex- 
cessive fever,  and  a  strong  flow  of  blood  to  the  brain.  She  can- 
not live  long.  Put  her  instantly  to  bed,  and  let  me  apply 
leeches." 

"Do  yer  charge  extry  for  leeching,  doctor?"  asked  Mr. 
Peterkin. 

"  Ob,  yes,  sir,  but  it  is  not  much  consideration,  as  you  are  one 
of  my  best  customers." 

"  I  don't  want  to  run  any  useless  expense  'bout  the  old  'oman. 
You  see  she  has  served  my  family  a  good  many  years." 

"  And  you  are  for  that  reason  much  attached  to  her,"  inter- 
posed the  doctor. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  sir.  I  never  was  'tached  to  a  nigger.  Even 
when  I  was  a  lad  I  had  no  fancy  fur  'em,  not  even  yer  bright 
yallow  wenches  ;  and  I  ain't  gwine  fur  to  spend  money  on  that 
old  nigger,  unless  you  cure  her,  and  make  her  able  to  work  and 
pay  fur  the  money  that's  bin  laid  out  fur  her." 

'■I  can't  promise  to  do  that;  neither  am  I  certain  that  the 
leeches  will  do  her  any  material  good,  but  they  will  assuredly 
serve  to  mitigate  her  sufferings,  by  decreasing  the  fever,  which 
now  rages  so  high." 

"  I  don'  care  a  cuss  for  that.  Taint  no  use  then  of  trying 
the  leeches.  If  she  be  gwine  to  die,  why  let  her  do  it  in  the 
cheapest  way." 


THE    PARSIMONIOUS    DOCTOR.  143 

Saying  this,  lie  went  off  -with  the  young  ladies,  the  doctor  fol- 
lowing in  the  wake.  As  he  was  passing  through  the  door-way, 
I  caught  hirn  by  the  skirts  of  his  coat.  Turning  suddenly 
round,  he  saw  who  it  was,  and  drew  within  the  cabin. 

"Doctor,"  and  I  spoke  with  great  timidity,  "is  she  so  ill  ? 
Will  she,  must  she  die  %  Please  try  the  leeches.  Here,"  and 
I  drew  from  an  old  hiding-place  in  the  wall  the  blessed  half- 
dollar  which  Master  Eddy  had  given  me  as  a  keepsake.  For 
years  it  had  lain  silently  there,  treasured  more  fondly  than 
Egyptian  amulet  or  Orient  gem.  On  some  rare  holiday  I  had 
drawn  it  from  its  concealment  to  gloat  over  it  with  all  a  miser's 
pride.  I  did  not  value  it  for  the  simple  worth  of  the  coin,  for  I 
had  sense  enough  to  know  that  its  actual  value  was  but  slight ; 
yet  what  a  wealth  of  memories  it  called  up  !  It  brought  hack 
the  times  when  1  had  a  mother  ;  when,  as  a  happy,  careless 
child  (though  a  slave),  I  wandered  through  the  wild  greenwood  ; 
where  I  ranged  free  as  a  bird,  ere  the  burden  of  a  blow  had 
been  laid  upon  my  shoulders ;  and  when  my  young  master 
and  mistress  sometimes  bestowed  kind  words  upon  me.  The 
fair  locks  and  mild  eyes  of  the  latter  gleamed  upon  me  with 
dream-like  beauty.  The  kind,  tearful  face  of  Master  Eddy,  his 
gentle  words  on  that  last  most  dreadful  day  that  bounded  and 
closed  the  last  chapter  of  happy  childhood — all  these  things 
were  recalled  by  the  sight  of  this  simple  little  half-dollar  !  And 
now  I  was  going  to  part  with  it.  What  a  struggle  it  was  !  I 
couldn't  do  it.  No,  I  couldn't  do  it.  It  was  the  one  silver  link 
between  me  and  remembered  joy.  To  part  with  it  would  be  to 
wipe  out  the  bright  days  of  my  life.  It  would  be  sacrilege,  in 
justice,  a  wrong;  no,  I  replaced  it  in  the  old  faded  rag  (in 
which  it  had  been  wrapped  for  years),  and  closed  my  hand  con- 
vulsively over  it.  There  stood  the  doctor !  He  had  caught 
sight  of  the  gleaming  coin,  and  (small  as  it  was)  his  cupidity  was 
excited,  and  when  he  saw  my  hand  closed  over  the  shining 
treasure,  the  smile  fled  from  his  face,  and  he  said  : 

"  Girl,  for  what  purpose  did  you  detain  me  ?     My  time  is 


144  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

precious.  I  have  other  patients  to  visit  this  morning,  and  can- 
not be  kept  here  longer  !" 

"  Oh,  doctor,  try  the  leeches." 

"  Your  Master  says  he  won't  pay  for  them." 

"  But  for  the  sake  of  charity,  for  the  value  of  human  life, 
you  will  do  it  without  pay." 

"  Will  I,  though  ?  Trust  me  for  that — and  who  will  feed  my 
wife  and  children  in  the  meantime.  I  can't  be  doctoring  every 
old  sick  nigger  gratuitously.  Her  old  fagged-out  frame  ain't 
worth  the  waste  of  my  leeches.  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
pay  for  it ;  but  you  see  a  nigger  is  a  nigger  the  world  over. 
They  are  too  stingy  to  do  anything  for  one  of  their  own  tribe." 

"  But  this  money  is  a  keepsake,  a  parting-gift  from  my  young 
Master,  who  gave  it  to  me  years  ago,  when  I  was  sold.  I  prize 
it  because  of  the  recollections  which  it  calls  up." 

"  A  sentimental  nigger  !  Well,  that  is  something  new ;  but 
if  you  cared  for  that  old  woman's  life  you  wouldn't  hesitate," 
and,  so  saying,  he  walked  away.  I  looked  upon  poor  Aunt 
Polly,  and  I  fancied  there  was  a  rebuking  light  in  her  feeble 
eye ;  and  her  withered  hands  seemed  stretched  out  to  ask  the 
help  which  I  cruelly  withheld. 

And  shall  I  desert  her  who  has  suffered  so  deeply  for  me  ? 
Well  may  she  reproach  me  with  that  "  piteous  action" — me,  who 
for  a  romantic  and  fanciful  feeling  withhold  the  means  of  saving 
her  life.  Oh,  how  I  blamed  myself !  How  wicked  and  selfish 
I  thought  my  heart. 

"  Doctor  !  come  back,  doctor  !  here  is  the  money,"  I  cried. 

He  had  stood  but  a  few  steps  without  the  cabin  door,  doubt- 
less expecting  this  change  in  my  sentiments. 

"  You  have  done  well,  Ann,  to  deny  yourself,  and  make  some 
effort  to  save  the  life  of  the  old  woman.  You  see  I  would  have 
done  it  for  nothing ;  but  the  leeches  cost  me  money.  It  is  in- 
convenient to  get  them,  and  I  have  a  family,  a  very  helpless 
one,  to  support,  and  you  know  it  won't  do  to  neglect  them,  lest 
I  be  worse  than  a  heathen  and  infidel.  In  your  case,  my  good 
girl,  the  case  is  quite  different,  for  niggers  are  taken  care  of  and 


THE    LEECHES.  145 

supported  by  their  Masters,  and  any  little  change  that  you  may 
have  is  an  extra,  for  which  you  have  no  particular  need.'' 

An  "  extra"  indeed  it  was,  and  a  very  rare  one.  One  that 
had  come  but  once  in  my  life,  and,  God  be  praised,  it  afforded 
me  an  opportunity  of  doing  the  good  Samaritan's  work  !  I  had 
seen  how  the  Levite  and  the  priest  had  neglected  the  wounded 
woman,  and  with  this  little  coin  I  could  do  a  noble  deed  ;  but 
as  to  my  being  well-cared  and  provided  for,  I  thought  the  doctor 
had  shot  wide  of  his  mark.  I  was  surprised  at  the  tone  of  easy 
familiarity  which  he  assumed  toward  me  ;  but  this  was  explained 
by  the  fact  that  he  was  what  is  commonly  called  a  jolly  fellow, 
and  had  been  pretty  freely  indulging  in  the  "joyful  glass." 
Besides,  I  was  going  to  pay  him  ;  then,  maybe,  he  felt  a  little 
ashamed  of  his  avarice,  and  sought  by  familiar  tone  and  manner 
to  beguile  me,  and  satisfy  his  conscience. 

His  "  medical  bags"  had  been  left  in  the  entry,  for  Miss  Jane, 
who  delighted  in  the  Lnbin-perfumed  extracts,  would  tolerate 
nothing  less  sweet-scented,  and  by  her  prohibitory  fiat,  the 
"  bags"  were  denied  admittance  to  the  house.  Once,  when  the 
doctor  was  suddenly  called  to  see  a  white  member  of  the  family, 
he,  either  through  forgetfulness  or  obstinacy,  violated  the  order, 
and  Miss  Jane  had  every  carpet  taken  up  and  shaken,  and  the 
floor  scoured,  for  the  odor  seemed  to  haunt  her  for  weeks. 
Since  then  he  had  rigidly  adhered  to  the  rule ;  I  suspect, 
with  many  secret  maledictions  upon  the  acuteness  of  her 
olfactories. 

Now  he  requested  me  to  bring  the  bags  to  him,  I  found  them, 
as  I  had  expected,  sitting  in  the  very  spot  where  he  usually 
placed  them. 

"  There  they  are,  doctor,  now  be  quick.  Cure  her,  help  her, 
do  anything,  but  let  her  not  die  whilst  this  money  can  pur- 
chase her  life,  or  afford  her  ease." 

He  took  the  coin  from  my  hand,  surveyed  it  for  a  moment,  a 
thing  that  I  considered  very  cruel,  for,  all  the  while,  the  victim 
was  suffering  uncared  for,  unattended  to. 

"It  is  but  a  small  piece,  doctor,  but  it  is  my  all ;  if  I  had 
7 


146  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

more,  you  should  have  it,  but  now  please  be  quick  in  the  appli- 
cation of  your  remedy." 

"  This  money  will  pay  but  for  a  few  leeches,  not  enough  to 
do  the  contusion  much  good.  You  see  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
diseased  blood  collected  at  the  left  temple  ;  but  I'll  be  charitable 
and  throw  in  a  few  leeches,  for  which  you  can  pay  me  at  some 
other  time,  when  you  happen  to  have  money." 

"  Certainly,  doctor,  I  will  give  you  all  that  you  demand  as 
fast  as  I  get  it." 

After  a  little  scarification  he  applied  the  leeches,  twelve  in 
number,  little,  sleek,  sharp,  needle-pointed,  oily-looking  things- 
Quickly,  as  if  starved,  the  tiny  vampires  commenced  their  work 
of  blood-sucking. 

"  She  bore  to  be  scarified  better  than  any  subject  I  ever  saw. 
Not  a  writhe  or  wince,"  remarked  the  doctor. 

Ah,  thought  I,  she  has  endured  too  much  pain  to  tremble  at 
a  needle  prick  like  that.  She,  whose  body  had  bled  at  every 
pore,  whose  skin  had  been  torn  and  mangled  until  it  bore  a 
thousand  scars,  could  surely  bear,  without  writhing,  a  pain  so 
delicate  as  that.  Though  I  thought  thus,  I  said  not  a  word ; 
for  (to  me)  the  worst  part  of  our  slavery  is  that  we  are  not 
allowed  to  speak  our  opinion  on  any  subject.  We  are  to  be 
mutes,  save  when  it  suits  our  owners  to  let  us  answer  in  words 
obsequious  enough  to  please  their  greedy  love  of  authority. 

Silently  I  stood  watching  the  leeches.  From  the  loss  of 
blood,  Aunt  Polly  seemed  somewhat  exhausted,  and  was  soon 
soundly,  sweetly  sleeping. 

"  Let  her  sleep,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  removed  the  leeches 
and  replaced  them  in  a  little  stone  vase,  "  when  she  wakes  she  will 
probably  be  better,  and  you  will  then  owe  me  one  dollar  and  a 
half,  as  the  bill  is  two  dollars.  It  would  have  been  more,  but 
I  allow,  part  to  go  for  charity."  So  saying-  he  left  the  cabin 
and  returned  to  the  house.  Oh,  most  noble  Christian  "  charity"  ! 
Is  this  the  blessed  quality  that  is  destined  to  "  cover  a  multi- 
tude of  sins"  ?  He  would  not  even  leech  a  half-dying  woman 
without  a  pecuniary  reward.  Oh,  far  advanced  whites,  fast 
growing  in  grace  and  ripening  in  holiness  ! 


CHAPTBE    XVIII. 

THE    ESSAY    OF    WIT YOUNG    ABOLITIONIST HIS    INFLUENCE 

A  NIGHT  AT  THE  DOOR  OF    THE    "  LOCK-UP." 

After  wiping  the  fresh  blood-stains  (produced  by  the  severe 
beating  of  Mr.  Peterkin)  from  Aunt  Polly's  shoulders,  and  bind- 
ing up  her  brow  to  conceal  the  wounds  made  by  the  leeching 
process,  I  tenderly  spread  the  old  coverlet  over  her  form,  and 
then  turned  away  from  her  to  go  about  my  usual  avocations. 

The  doctor  was  just  making  his  adieux,  and  the  ladies  had 
gathered  round  him  in  quite  a  social  and  sportive  way.  Misses 
Jane  and  Tildy  were  playfully  disputing  which  one  should  take 
possession  of  his  heart  and  hand,  in  the  event  of  Mrs.  Mandy's 
sudden  demise.  All  this  merriment  and  light-heartedness  was 
exhibited,  when  but  a  few  rods  from  them  a  poor,  old,  faithful 
creature  lay  in  the  agonies  of  a  torturing  death,  and  a  young 
girl,  who  had  striven  for  her  liberty,  and  tried  to  achieve  it  at 
a  perilous  risk,  had  just  been  bound,  hand  and  foot,  and  cast 
into  outer  darkness!  Oh,  this  was  a  strange  meeting  of  the  ex- 
tremes.    What  varied  colors  the  glass  of  life  can  show  ! 

At  length,  with  many  funny  speeches,  and  promises  very 
ridiculous,  the  doctor  tore  himself  away  from  the  chatty  group. 

Passing  in  and  out  of  the  house,  through  the  hall  or  in  the 
parlor,  as  my  business  required,  I  saw  Mr.  Worth  and  Miss 
Bradly  sitting  quietly  and  moodily  apart,  whilst,  occasionally, 
Miss  Tildy  would  flash  out  with  a  coarse  joke,  or  Miss  Jane 
would  speculate  upon  the  feelings  of  Lindy,  in  her  present 
helpless  and  gloomy  confinement. 

"  I  reckon  she  does  not  relish  Canada  about  this  time." 

"No;  let  us  ask  her  candid  opinion  of  it,"  said  Miss  Tildy, 

[147] 


148  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

who  considered  herself  the  wit  of  the  family,  and  this  last  speech 
she  regarded  as  quite  an  extraordinary  flash. 

"  That's  very  good,  Till,''  said  her  patronizing  sister,  ''hut 
you  are  always  witty." 

"  Now,  sister,  ain't  you  ashamed  to  flatter  me  so  ?"  and  with 
the  most  Laura  Matilda-ish  air,  she  turned  her  head  aside  and 
tried  to  Mush. 

I  could  read,  from  his  clear,  manly  glance,  that  Mr.  Worth 
was  sick  at  heart  and  goaded  to  anguish  hy  what  he  saw  and 
heard  ;  yet,  like  many  another  noble  man,  he  sat  in  silent  en- 
durance. Miss  Jane  caught  the  idea  of  his  gloom,  and,  with  a 
good  deal  of  sly,  vulpine  malice,  determined  to  annoy  him.  She 
had  not  for  him,  as  Miss  Tildy  had,  a  personal  admiration  ;  so, 
by  way  of  vexing  him,  as  well  as  showing  off  her  smartness, 
she  asked  : 

"  Till,  is  there  much  "Worth  in  Abolitionism  V 

"  I  don't  know,  but  there  is  a  Robin  in  it."  This  she  thought 
a  capital  repartee. 

"  Bravo!  bravo,  Till!  who  can  equal  you  ?  You  are  the  wit- 
tiest girl  in  town  or  country." 

"  Wit  is  a  precious  gift,"  said  Mr.  Worth,  as  he  satirically 
elevated  his  brows. 

"  Indeed  is  it,"  replied  Miss  Tildy,  "  but  I  am  not  conscious 
of  its  possession."  Of  course  she  expected  he  would  gainsay 
her ;  but,  as  he  was  silent,  her  cheeks  blazed  like  a  peony. 

"What  makes  Miss  Bradly  so  quiet  and  seemingly  lachry- 
mose ?  I  do  believe  Johnny's  Abolition  lecture  has  given  her  the 
blues." 

"  Not  the  lecture,  but  the  necessity  for  the  lecture,"  put  in 
Mr.  Worth. 

"  What's  that  ?  what's  that  'bout  Aberlitionists  ?"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Peterkin,  as  he  rushed  into  the  room.  "Is  there  one  of 
'em  here?  Let  me  know  it,  and  my  roof  shan't  shelter  the 
rascal.     Whar  is  he  ?" 

I  looked  toward  Mr.  Worth,  for  I  feared  that,  on  an  occasion 
like  this,   his    principles    would    fail    as  Miss  Bradly's  had; 


DISAFFECTION.  149 

but  the  fear  was  quickly  dissipated,  as  lie  replied  in  a  manly 
tone: 

"  I,  a  vindicator  of  the  anti-slavery  policy,  and  a  denouncer 
of  the  slave  system,  stand  before  you,  and  declare  myself  proud 
of  my  sentiments." 

"  You  ?  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  that's  too  ridiculous;  a  mere  boy; 
a  stripling,  no  bigger  than  my  arm.  I'd  not  disgrace  my  man- 
hood with  a  fight  with  the  like  of  yer." 

"  So  thought  Goliath  when  David  met  him  in  warfare  ;  but 
witness  the  sequel,  and  then  say  if  the  battle  is  always  to  the 
strong,  or  the  victory  with  the  proud.  Might  is  not  always 
l'ight.  I  ask  to  be  heard  for  my  cause.  Stripling  as  you  call 
me,  I  am  yet  able  to  vindicate  my  abolition  principles  upon 
other  and  higher  ground  than  mere  brute  force." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  you  has  larnt,  I  s'pose,  to  talk.  That's  all  them 
windy  Aberlitionists  ken  do  ;  they  berate  and  talk,  but  they 
can't  act." 

A  contemptuous  smile  played  over  the  face  of  Mr.  "Worth, 
but  he  did  not  deign  to  answer  with  words. 

"  Do  you  know,  pa,  that  Johnny  is  an  Abolitionist  ?"  asked 
Miss  Jane. 

"  What!  John  Peterkin  ?  my  son  John  ?" 

"  The  same,"  and  Miss  Jane  bowed  most  significantly. 

"Well,  that's  funny  enuff;  but  I'll  soon  bring  it  outen  him. 
He's  a  quiet  lad  ;  not  much  sperrit,  and  I  guess  he's  hearn 
some  '  cock  and  bull  story'  'bout  freedom  and  equality.  All 
smart  boys  of  his  age  is  apt  to  feel  that  way,  but  he'll  come  out- 
en it.  It's  all  bekase  he  has  hearn  too  many  Fourth  of  July 
speeches  ;  but  I  don't  fear  fur  him,  he  is  sure  to  come  outen 
it.  The  very  idee  of  my  son's  bei^g  an  Aberlitionist  is  too 
funny." 

"  Funny  is  it,  father,  for  your  child  to  love  mercy,  and  deal 
justly,  even  with  the  lowliest?"  As  he  said  this,  young  master 
stood  in  the  doorway.  He  looked  paler  and  even  more  spiritual 
than  was  his  wont. 

Mr.  Peterkin  sat  for  full  five   minutes,  gazing  at   the  boy ; 


150  AUTOBIOGRAPH\    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

and,  strange  to  say,  made  no  reply,  but  strode  away  from  the 
room. 

Miss  Jane  and  Tildy  regarded  each  other  with  evident  sur- 
prise. They  had  expected  a  violent  outburst,  and  thus  to  see 
their  father  tamed  and  subdued  by  the  word  and  glance  of 
their  boy-brother,  astonished  them  not  a  little. 

Miss  Tildy  turned  toward  young  master,  and  said,  in  what 
was  meant  for  a  most  caustic  tone, 

"  You  are  an  embryo  Van  Amburgh,  thus  to  tame  the  lion's 
rage." 

"  But  you,  Tilly,  are  too  vulpine  to  be  fascinated  even  by 
the  glance  of  Van  Amburgh  himself." 

"  Well,  now,  Johnny,  you  are  getting  impertinent  as  well  as 
spicy." 

"  Pertinent,  you  mean,"  said  Mr.  Worth.  Miss  Tildy  would 
not  look  angry  at  Mm  ;  for  she  was  besieging  the  fortress  of  his 
affections,  and  she  deemed  kind  measures  the  most  advan- 
tageous. 

Were  I  to  narrate  most  accurately  the  conversation  that  fol- 
lowed, the  repartees  that  flashed  from  the  lips  of  some,  and  the 
anger  that  burned  blue  in  the  faces  of  others,  I  should  only 
amuse  the  reader,  or  what  is  more  likely,  weary  him. 

I  will  simply  mention  that,  after  a  few  hours'  sojourn,  Mr. 
Worth  took  his  departure,  not  without  first  having  a  long  con- 
versation, in  a  private  part  of  the  garden,  with  young  master. 
Miss  Bradly  retired  to  the  young  ladies'  room  (for  they  would 
not  allow  her  to  leave  the  house),  under  pretext  of  headache. 
Often,  as  I  passed  in  and  out  to  ask  her  if  she  needed  anything, 
I  found  her  weeping  bitterly.  Late  in  the  evening,  about  eight 
o'clock,  Mr.  Peterkin  returned;  throwing  the  reins  of  his  horse 
to  ISTace,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Well,  I've  made  a  good  bargain  of  it ;  I've  sold  Lindy  to  a 
trader  for  one  thousand  dollars — that  is,  if  she  answers  the  de- 
scription which  I  gave  of  her.  He  is  comin'  in  the  mornin'  to 
look  at  her  ;  and,  with  a  little  riggin'  up,  I  think  she'll  'pear  a 
rale  good-lookin'  wench." 


A   SALE.  151 

When  I  went  into  the  house  to  prepare  some  supper  for  Mr. 
Peterkin  (the  family  tea  had  heen  despatched  two  hours  before), 
he  was  in  an  excellent  humor,  well  pleased,  no  doubt,  with  his 
good  trade. 

"  Now,  Ann,  be  brisk  and  smart,  or  you  might  find  yourself 
in  the  trader's  hands  afore  long.  Likely  yellow  gals  like  you 
sells  mighty  well ;  and  if  you  doesn't  behave  well  you  is  a 
goner." 

"  Down  the  river"  was  not  terrible  to  me,  nor  did  I  dread 
being  ''  sold ;"  yet  one  thing  I  did  fear,  and  that  was  separation 
from  young  master.  In  the  last  few  days  he  had  become  to  me 
everything  I  could  respect ;  nay,  I  loved  him.  Not  that  it 
was  in  his  power  to  do  me  any  signal  act  of  good.  He  could 
not  soften  the  severity  of  his  father  and  sisters  toward  me ;  yet 
one  thing  he  could  and  did  do,  he  spoke  an  occasional  kind, 
hopeful  word  to  me.  Those  whose  hearts  are  fed  upon  kind- 
ness and  love,  can  little  understand  how  dear  to  the  lonely,  des- 
titute soul,  is  one  word  of  friendliness.  We,  to  whom  the  husks 
are  flung  with  an  unfeeling  tone,  appreciate  as  manna  from 
heaven  the  word  of  gentleness ;  and  now  I  thought  if  I  were 
to  leave  young  master  my  soul  would  die.  Had  not  his 
blessed  smile  elevated  and  inspired  my  sinking  spirit,  and  his 
sweet  tone  softened  my  over-taxed  heart  ?  Oh,  blessed  one  ! 
even  now  I  think  of  thee,  and  with  a  full  heart  thank  God  that 
such  beings  have  lived  ! 

I  watched  master  dispatch  his  supper  in  a  most  summary 
manner.  At  length  he  settled  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and, 
taking  his  tooth-pick  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  began  picking 
his  teeth. 

''  Wal,  Ann,"  he  said,  as  he  swung  himself  back  in  his  chair, 
how's  ole  Poll  ?" 

"  She  is  still  asleep." 

"  Yes,  I  said  she  was  possuming ;  but  by  to-morrow,  if  she 
ain't  up  outen  that  ar'  bunk  of  hers,  I'll  know  the  reason ;  and 
I'll  sell  her  to  the  trader  that's  comin'  for  Lindy." 

"  I  wish  ynu  would  sell  her,  father,  and  buy  a  new  cook ; 


152         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

she  prepares  everything  in  such  an  old-fashioned  manner — can't 
make  a  single  French  dish,"  said  Miss  Jane. 

'■'  I  don't  care  a  cuss  'bout  yer  French  dishes,  or  yer  fashion- 
able cooks ;  I's  gwine  to  sell  her,  becase  the  craps  didn't  yield 
me  much  this  year,  and  I  wants  money,  so  I  must  make  it  by 
sellin'  off  niggers." 

"  You  must  not  sell  Aunt  Polly,  and  you  shall  not,"  said 
young  master,  with  a  fearful  emphasis. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  lad  ?"  cried  the  infuriated  father,  and 
he  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  was  in  the  very  act  of  rushing 
upon  the  offender ;  but  suddenly  he  quailed  before  the  fixed, 
determined  gaze  of  that  eye.  He  looked  again,  then  cowered, 
reeled,  and  staggered  like  a  drunken  man,  and,  falling  back  in 
his  chair,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  uttered  a 
fearful  groan.  The  ladies  were  frightened ;  they  had  never 
seen  their  father  thus  fearfully  excited.  They  dared  not  speak 
one  word.  The  finger  of  an  awful  silence  seemed  laid  upon 
each  and  every  one  present.  At  length  young  master,  with  a 
slow  step,  approached  his  father,  and,  taking  the  large  hand, 
which  swung  listlessly,  within  his  own,  said,  ''Fath — ;"  but 
before  he  had  finished  the  syllable,  Mr.  Petcrkin  sprang  up,  ex- 
claiming, 

"  Off,  I  say  !  off !  off !  she  sent  you  here ;  she  told  you  to  speak 
so  to  me."  Then  gazing  wildly  at  Johnny,  he  cried,  "  Those 
are  her  eyes,  that  is  her  face.  I  say,  away  !  away!  leave  me  ! 
you  torment  me  with  the  sight  of  that  face  !  It's  her's  it's  hers. 
Blood  will  have  blood,  and  now  you  comes  to  git  mine !"  and 
the  strong  man  fell  prostrate  upon  the  floor,  in  a  paroxysm  of 
agony.  He  foamed  at  the  mouth,  and  rolled  his  great  vacant 
eyes  around  the  room  in  a  wildness  fearful  to  behold. 

"  Oh  Lor',"  said  old  Nace,  who  appeared  in  the  doorway, 
"  oh  Lor',  him's  got  a  fit." 

The  ladies  shrieked  and  screamed  in  a  frightful  manner. 
Young  master  was  almost  preternaturally  calm.  He  and  Miss 
Bradly  (after  Nace  and  Jake  had  placed  master  on  the  bed) 
rendered  him  every  attention.     Miss  Bradly  chafed  his  temples 


DEATH.  153 

with  camphor,  and  moistened  the  lips  and  palms  of  the  hands 
with  it.  When  he  began  to  revive,  he  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall  and  wept  like  a  child.     Then  he  fell  off  into  a  quiet  sleep. 

Young  master  and  Miss  Bradly  watched  beside  that  restless 
sleeper  long  and  faithfully.  And  from  that  night  there  grew 
up  between  them  a  fervent  friendship,  which  endured  to  the 
last  of  their  mortal  days. 

Upon  frequently  going  into  Aunt  Polly's  cabin,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  find  her  still  sleeping.  At  length  when  my  duties 
were  all  discharged  in  the  house,  and  I  went  to  prepare  for  the 
night's  rest,  I  thought  I  would  arouse  her  from  her  torpor  and 
administer  a  little  nourishment  that  might  benefit  her. 

To  my  surprise  her  arm  felt  rigid,  and  oh,  so  cold!  "What  if 
she  is  dead!  thought  1  ;  and  a  cold  thrill  passed  over  my  frame. 
The  big  drops  burst  from  my  brow  and  stood  in  chilly  dew 
upon  my  temples.  Oh  God!  can  it  be  that  she  is  dead!  One 
look,  one  more  touch,  and  the  dreadful  question  would  be  an- 
swered ;  yet,  when  I  attempted  to  stretch  forth  my  hand,  it  was 
stiff  and  powerless.  In  a  moment  the  very  atmosphere  seemed 
to  grow  heavy  ;  'twas  peopled  with  a  strange,  charnel  gloom. 
My  breath  was  thick  and  broken,  coming  only  at  intervals  and 
with  choking  gaspings.  One  more  desperate  effort  !  I  com- 
manded myself,  gathered  all  my  courage,  and,  seizing  hold  of 
the  body  with  a  power  which  was  stronger  than  my  own,  I 
turned  it  over — when,  oh  God  of  mercy,  such  a  spectacle  !  the 
question  was  answered  with  a  fearful  affirmation.  There,  rigid, 
still  and  ghastly,  she  lay  in  death.  The  evident  marks  of  a 
violent  struggle  were  stamped  upon  those  features,  which,  de- 
spite their  tough  hard-favoredness,  and  their  gaunt  gloom,  were 
dear  to  me  ;  for  had  she  not  been  my  best  of  friends,  nay  proved 
her  friendship  by  a  martyrdom  which,  if  slower,  was  no  less 
heroic  than  that  which  adorns  the  columns  of  historical  re- 
nown ?  Gently  I  closed  those  wide-staring,  blank  eyes,  and 
pressed  tenderly  together  the  distended  jaws  ;  and,  taking  from 
a  box  a  slipet  of  white  muslin,  bound  up  her  cheeks.  Slowly, 
and  not  without  a  feeling  of  terror,  I  unwound  the  bandage  from 


154  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

her  brow,  which  concealed  the  wonnd  made  by  the  leeches  ;  this 
I  replaced  with  my  only  handkerchief.  I  then  endeavored  to 
straighten  the  contracted  limbs,  for  she  had  died  lying  upon 
her  side,  with  her  body  drawn  nearly  double.  I  found  this  a 
rather  difficult  task ;  yet  was  it  a  melancholy  pleasure,  a  duty 
that  I  performed  irresolutely  but  with  tenderness. 

After  all  was  done,  and  before  getting  the  water  to  wash  the 
body  (for  I  wished  to  enrobe  her  decently  for  the  burial),  I 
gave  way  to  the  luxury  of  expressed  grief,  and,  sinking  down 
upon  my  knees  beside  that  lifeless  form,  thanked  God  for  hav- 
ing taken  her  from  this  scene  of  trouble  and  trial.  "  You  are 
gone,  my  poor  old  friend  ;  but  that  hereafter  of  which  we  all 
entertain  so  much  dread,  cannot  be  to  you  so  bad  as  this  wretched 
present ;  and  though  I  am  lonely  without  you,  I  rejoice  that 
you  have  left  this  land  of  bondage.  And  I  believe  that  at  this 
moment  your  tried  soul  is  free  and  happy  !-' 

So  saying,  I  stepped  without  the  door  of  the  cabin,  and,  look- 
ing up  to  the  clear,  cold  moon  and  the  way-off  stars,  I  smiled, 
even  in  my  bitterness,  for  I  imagined  I  could  see  her  emanci- 
pated soul  soaring  away  on  its  new-made  wings,  to  the  land 
forever  flowing  with  milk  and  honey.  She  had  often  in  her  earth- 
pilgrimage,  as  many  tried  martyrs  had  done  before  her,  fainted 
by  the  wayside  ;  but  then  was  she  not  sorely  tempted,  and  did 
not  a  life  of  captivity  and  seven-fold  agony,  atone  for  all  her 
short-comings  ?  Besides,  we  are  divinely  informed  that  where 
little  is  given,  little  is  required.  In  view  of  this  sacred  assurance, 
let  not  the  sceptic  reader  think  that  my  faith  was  stretched  to 
an  unwarranted  degree.  Yes,  I  did  and  do  think  that  she  was 
at  that  moment  and  is  now  happy.  If  not,  how  am  I  to  ac- 
count for  the  strange  feeling  of  peace  that  settled  over  my 
mind  and  heart,  when  I  thought  of  her  !  For  a  holy,  heavenly 
calm,  like  the  dropping  of  a  prophet's  mantle,  overspread  my 
heart ;  a  cool  sense  of  ease,  refreshing  as  the  night  dew,  and 
sustaining  as  the  high  stars,  seemed  to  gird  me  round! 

I  did  not  heed  the  cold  air,  but  walked  out  a  few  rods  in  the 
direction  of  the  out-house,  where  Lindy  was  confined.    "  Yonder," 


TALK  AT  THE  DOOR  OP  THE  LOCK-UP.         155 

I  soliloquized,  "perishing  for  a  kind  word,  lies  a  poor  outcast, 
wretched  being.  I  will  go  to  her,  bury  all  thoughts  of  the  past, 
and  speak  one  kind  word  of  encouragement." 

As  I  drew  near  to  the  "  lock-up,"  the  moon  that  had  been  sail- 
ing swift  and  high  through  the  heaven,  passed  beneath  the 
screen  of  a  dark  cloud.  I  paused  in  my  steps  and  looked  up 
to  the  sky.  "  Such,"  I  thought,  "  is  the  transit  of  a  human 
soul  across  the  vault  of  life  ;  beneath  clouds  and  shadows  the 
serene  face  is  often  hidden,  and  the  spirit's  mellow  light  is  often, 
by  affliction,  obscured  from  view. 

Just  then  a  sob  of  anguish  fell  upon  my  ear.  I  knew  it  was 
Lindy,  and  moved  hastily  forward ;  but,  light  as  was  my  foot- 
fall, it  aroused  the  sentinel-dog,  and,  with  a  loud  bark,  he 
sprang  toward  me.  "  Down,  Cuff!  down  !"  said  I,  addressing 
the  dog,  who,  as  soon  as  he  recognized  me,  crouched  lovingly  at 
my  feet.  Just  then  the  moon  glided  with  a  queenly  air  from 
behind  the  clouds.  "  So,"  I  said,  "  passeth  the  soul,  with  the 
same  Diana-like  sweep,  from  the  heavy  fold  and  curtain  of 
human  sorrow."  Another  moan,  deeper  and  more  fearful  than 
the  first  !  I  was  close  beside  the  door  of  the  ''lock-up,"  and, 
cowering  down,  with  my  mouth  close  to  the  crevice,  I  called 
Lindy.  "  Wbo's  dar  1  who's  dar  ?  For  de  love  of  heaven 
somebody  come  to  me,"  said  Lindy,  in  a  half-frantic  tone. 

"  'Tis  I,  Lindy,  don't  you  know  my  voice  1" 

"  Yes,  it's  Ann  !  Oh,  please,  Ann,  help  me  outen  here. 
I's  seen  such  orful  sights  and  hearn  sich  dreful  sounds,  I'd  be  a 
slave  all  my  born  days  jist  to  git  way  frum  here.  Oh,  Ann, 
I's  seed  a  speerit"  and  then  she  gave  such  a  fearful  shriek, 
that  I  felt  my  flesh  grow  cold  and  stony  as  death.  Yet  I  knew 
it  was  my  duty  to  appear  calm,  and  try  to  persuade  her  that  it 
was  not  true  or  real. 

"  Oh,  no,  Lindy,  you  must  not  be  frightened ;  only  hope  and 
trust  in  God,  and  pray  to  Him.  He  will  take  yon  away  from 
all  this  trouble.  He  loves  you.  He  cares  for  you,  for  'twas 
He  who  made  you,  Your  soul  is  precious  to  Him.  Ob,  try  to 
pray." 


156  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Oh,  but,  Ann,  I  doesn't  know  how  to  pray.  I  never  seed 
God,  and  I  is  afraid  of  Him.     He  might  he  like  master." 

This  was  fearful  ignorance,  and  how  to  begin  to  teach  her  the 
way  to  believe  was  above  my  ability ;  yet  I  knew  that  every 
soul  was  precious  to  G-od ;  so  I  made  an  endeavor  to  do  all  I  could 
in  the  way  of  instruction. 

"  Say,  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven,"  Lindy. 

"  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven,"  she  repeated  in  a  slow, 
nervous  manner. 

"  Hallowed  be  Thy  name."  Again  she  repeated,  and  so  on 
we  prayed,  she  following  accurately  after  me,  though  the  heavy 
door  separated  us.  Think  ye  not,  oh,  gentle  reader,  that  this 
prayer  was  heard  above  ?  Never  did  words  come  more  truly 
from  my  heart ;  and  Avith  a  low  moan,  they  rung  plaintively 
upon  the  still,  moonlit  air  !  1  could  tell,  from  the  fervent  tone 
in  which  Lindy  followed,  that  her  whole  soul  was  engaged. 
When  the  final  amen  had  been  said,  she  asked,  "  Ann,  what's 
to  become  of  me  ?" 

I  evaded  her  by  saying,  '*  how  can  I  know  what  master  will 
do  ¥'■ 

"  Yes,  but  haven't  you  heard  ?  Oh,  don't  fool  me,  Ann,  but 
tell  me  all." 

For  a  moment  I  hesitated,  then  said  :  "  Yes,  Lindy,  I'll  deal 
fairly  with  you.  I  have  heard  that  master  intends  selling 
you  to-morrow  to  a  trader,  whom  he  went  to  see  to-day  ;  and, 
if  the  trader  is  satisfied  with  you  to-morrow,  the  bargain  will 
be  closed." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  oh,  Lord  !"  she  groaned  forth,  "oh,  is  I  gwine 
down  de  ribber  1  Oh,  Lord,  kill  me  right  now ;  but  don't  send 
me  to  dat  dreful  place,  down  de  ribber,  down  de  ribber  !" 

"  Oh,  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  He  will  protect  you.  Down  the 
river  can't  be  much  worse  than  here,  maybe  not  so  bad.  For 
my  part,  Lindy,  I  would  rather  be  sold  and  run  the  risk  of  get- 
ting a  good  master,  than  remain  here  where  we  are  treated 
worse  than  dogs." 

"  Oh,  dar  isn't  no  sort  ob  hope  ob  my  gitten  any  better  home 


THE    YOUNG    GUARDIAN.  157 

den  dis  here  one ;  den  I  knows  you  all,  and  way  off  dar  'mong 
strange  black  folks,  oh,  no,  I  never  can  go;  de  Lord  bab  marcy 
on  me." 

Tbis  begging  of  tbe  poor  negroes  to  tbe  Lord  to  bave  mercy 
on  tbem,  though  frequent,  has  no  particular  significance,  It  is 
more  a  plaint  of  agony  than  a  cry  for  actual  mercy ;  and,  in 
Lindy's  case,  it  most  assuredly  only  expressed  ber  grief,  for  she 
had  no  ripe  faith  in  tbe  power  and  willingness  of  Our  Father  to 
send  mercy  to  her.  Religion  she  believed  consisted  in  going  to 
church  every  Sunday  twice  ;  consequently  it  was  a  luxury 
which,  like  all  luxuries,  must  be  monopolized  by  the  whites. 
From  the  very  depths  of  my  heart  I  prayed  that  tbe  light  of 
Divine  grace  might  shine  in  upon  ber  darkened  intellect.  Soul 
of  Faith,  verily  art  thou  soul  of  beauty  !  And  though,  as  a 
special  gift,  faith  is  not  withheld  from  the  lowliest,  the  most 
ignorant,  yet  does  its  possession  give  to  the  poorest  and  most 
degraded  Ethiopian  a  divine  consciousness,  an  inspiration,  that 
as  to  what  is  grandest  in  the  soul  exalts  him  above  the  noblest 
of  poets. 

Whilst  talking  to  Lindy,  I  was  surprised  to  hear  the  muffled 
sound  of  an  approaching  footstep.  Noiselessly  I  was  trying  to 
creep  away,  when  young  master  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Is  this  you,  Ann  1  "Wait  a  moment.  Have  you  spoken  to 
Lindy  ?     Have  you  told  ber — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  and  I  answered, 

"  Yes,  I  have  told  her  that  she  is  to  be  sold,  and  to  a  trader." 

"  Is  she  willing  ?" 

**  ~No,  sir,  she  has  a  great  terror  of  down  the  river." 

"  That  is  the  way  with  them  all,  yet  her  condition,  so  far  as 
treatment  is  concerned,  may  be  bettered,  certainly  it  cannot  be 
made  worse." 

"  "Will  you  speak  to  ber,  young  Master,  and  reconcile  her  to 
her  situation  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  do  all  I  can." 

"  And  now  I  will  go  and  stay  with  the  corpse  of  dear  Aunt 
Polly;"  here  I  found  it  impossible  to  restrain  my  tears,  and, 


158  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

convulsed  with  emotion,  I  seated  myself  upon  the  ground  with 
my  back  against  the  door  of  the  lock-up. 

"  Dead  ?  dead  ?  Aunt  Polly  dead  ?"  he  asked  in  a  bewil- 
dered tone. 

"  Yes,  young  Master,  I  found  her  dead,  and  with  every  ap- 
pearance of  having  had  a  severe  struggle." 

I  then  told  him  about  the  leeching  process,  how  the  doctor 
had  acted,  &c. 

"Murdered  !  She  was  most  cruelly  murdered!"  he  murmured 
to  himself. 

In  the  excitement  of  conversation  he  had  elevated  his  tone  a, 
good  deal,  and  the  fearful  news  reached  the  ears  of  Lindy,  and 
she  shrieked  out, 

"  Is  Aunt  Polly  dead  ?  Oh,  tell  me,  for  I  thinks  I  sees  her 
sperit  now." 

Then  such  entreaties  as  she  made  to  get  out  were  agonizing 
to  hear. 

"  Ob,  if  you  can't  let  me  out,  don't  leave  me  !  Oh,  don't  leave 
me,  Ann!  I  is  so  orful  skeerecl.  I  do  see  such  terrible  sights, 
and  it  'pears  like  when  you  is  here  talking,  dem  orful  things 
don't  come  arter  me." 

"You  go,  Ann,  and  watch  with  Aunt  Polly's  body;  I  will 
stay  here  with  this  poor  creature." 

"What,  you,  young  master;  no,  no,  you  shall  not,  it  will  kill 
you.  Your  cough  will  increase,  and  it  might  prove  fatal.  No, 
I  will  stay  here." 

"But  who  will  watch  with  Aunt  Polly?" 

"  I  will  awaken  Amy,  and  make  her  keep  guard." 

"  No,  she  is  too  young,  lacks  nerve,  will  be  frightened ;  be- 
sides, you  must  not  be  found  here  in  the  morning.  You  would 
be  severely  punished  for  it.  Go  now,  good  Ann,  and  leave  me 
here." 

"  No,  young  master,  I  cannot  leave  you  to  what  I  am  sure 
will  be  certain  death." 

"  That  would  be  no  misfortune  to  me." 


THE     MIDNIGHT    WATCH.  159 

And  I  shall  never  forget  the  calm  and  half-glorified  expres- 
sion of  his  face,  as  he  pronounced  these  words. 

"  Go,  Ann,"  he  continued,  "leave  me  to  watch  and  pray  beside 
this  forlorn  creature,  and,  if  the  Angel  of  Death  spreads  his 
wings  on  this  midnight  blast,  I  think  I  should  welcome  him ; 
for  life,  with  its  broken  promises  and  its  cold  humanity,  sickens 
me — oh  so  much." 

And  his  beautiful  head  fell  languidly  on  his  breast;  and  again 
I  listened  to  that  low,  husky  cough.  To-night  it  had  an  unusual 
sound,  and,  forgetful  of  the  humble  relation  in  which  I  stood  to 
him,  I  grasped  his  arm  firmly  but  lovingly,  saying, 

"  Hark  to  that  cough  !     Now  you  must  go  in." 

"  No,  I  cannot.  I  know  best ;  besides,  since  nothing  less 
gentle  will  do,  I  needs  must  use  authority,  and  command  you 
to  go." 

"  I  would  that  you  did  not  exercise  your  authority  against 
yourself." 

But  he  waved  me  off.  Eeluctantly  I  obeyed  him.  Again  I 
entered  the  cabin  and  roused  Amy,  who  slept  on  a  pallet  or  heap 
of  straw  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  where  the  still,  unbreathing  form 
of  my  old  friend  lay.  It  was  difficult  to  awake  her,  for  she  was 
always  wearied  at  night,  and  slept  with  that  deep  soundness  pe- 
culiar to  healthful  childhood ;  but,  after  various  shakes,  I  con- 
trived to  make  her  open  her  eyes  and  speak  to  me. 

"  Come  Amy,"  I  said,  "rouse,  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"  In  what  way  and  what  fur  you  wake  me  up  ?"  she  said  as 
she  sat  upright  on  the  straw,  and  began  rubbing  her  eyes. 

"  Never  mind,  but  you  get  up  and  I  will  tell  you." 

When  she  was  fairly  awake,  she  assisted  me  in  lifting  in  a 
large  tub  of  water. 

"  Oh,  is  Aunt  Polly  any  sicker  ?"  she  inquired. 

"  Amy,  she  is  dead." 

"  Oh,  Lord,  den  I  ain't  gwine  to  hope  you,  bekase  I's  afeared 
ob  a  dead  body." 

"  It  can't  harm  you." 


1G0  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Yes  it  ken  ;  anyhow,  I  is  feared  ob  it,  and  I  ain't  gwine  to 
hope  you." 

"  Well,  you  need  not  touch  her,  only  sit  up  with  me  whilst  I 
wash  her  and  dress  her  nicely." 

"  Well,  I'll  do  dat  much." 

Accordingly,  she  crouched  down  in  the  corner  and  concealed 
her  face  with  her  hands,  whilst  I  proceeded  to  wash  the  body 
thoroughly  and  dress  it  out  in  an  old  faded  calico,  which,  in  life, 
had  constituted  her  finest  robe.  Bare  and  undecked,  but  clean, 
appeared  that  tabernacle  of  flesh,  which  had  once  enshrined  a 
tried  but  immortal  spirit.  When  all  was  finished,  I  seated  my- 
self near  the  partly-opened  door,  and  waited  for  the  coming  of 
day.    Ah,  when  was  the  morn  of  glad  freedom  to  break  f  >r  me  ? 


CHAPTEE   XIX. 

SYMPATHY  CASTETH  OUT  FEAR — CONSEQUENCE  OF  THE    NIGHT'S 
WATCH TROUBLED    REFLECTIONS. 

Morn  did  break,  bright  and  clear,  over  the  face  of  the  sleeping 
earth  !  It  was  a  still  and  blessed  hour.  Man,  hushed  from  his 
rushing  activity,  lay  reposeful  in  the  arms  of  "  Death's  counter- 
feit— sleep."  All  animated  nature  was  quiet  and  calm,  till,  sud- 
denly, a  gush  of  melody  broke  from  the  clear  throats  of  the 
wildwood  birds  and  made  the  air  vocal.  Another  day  was 
dawning ;  another  day  born  to  witness  sins  and  cruelties  the 
most  direful.  Do  we  not  often  wonder  why  the  sky  can  smile 
fo  blue  and  lovingly,  when  such  outrages  are  enacted  beneath 
it  ?     But  I  must  not  anticipate. 

As  soon  as  the  sun  had  fairly  risen  I  knocked  at  the  house- 
door,  which  was  opened  by  Miss  Bradly,  whose  languid  face  and 
crumpled  dress,  proved  that  she  had  taken  no  rest  during  the 
night.  Bidding  her  a  polite  good-morning,  I  inquired  if  the 
ladies  had  risen  ?  She  answered  that  they  were  still  asleep, 
and  had  rested  well  during  the  night.  I  next  inquired  for  mas 
ter's  health. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  "  I  think  he  is  well,  quite  well  again.  He 
slept  soundly.  I  think  he  only  suffered  from  a  violent  and 
sudden  mental  excitement.  A  good  night's  rest,  and  a  sedative 
that  I  administered,  have  restored  him  ;  but  to-day,  oh,  to-day, 
how  I  do  dread  to-day.'' 

To  the  latter  part  of  this  speech  I  made  no  answer ;  for,  of 
late,  I  had  learned  to  distrust  her.  Even  if  her  belief  was  right, 
I  could  not  recognize  her  as  one  heroic  enough  to  promulgate  it 

[1611 


162  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

from  the  house-tops.  I  saw  in  her  only  a  weak,  servile  soul, 
drawn  down  from  the  lofty  purpose  of  philanthropy,  seduced  by 
the  charm  of  ''  vile  lucre."  Therefore  I  observed  a  rigid  silence. 
Feeling  a  little  embarrassed,  I  began  playing  with  the  strings 
of  my  apron,  for  I  was  fearful  that  the  expression  of  my  face 
might  betray  what  was  working  in  my  mind. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Ann  ?" 

This  recalled  the  tragedy  that  had  occurred  in  the  cabin,  and 
I  said,  in  a  faltering  tone, 

"  Death  has  been  among  us.     Poor  Aunt  Polly  is  gone." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?     When  did  she  die  1     Poor  old  creature  !" 

''She  died  some  time  before  midnight.  When.  I  left  the 
house  I  was  surprised  to  find  her  still  sleeping,  so  I  thought 
perhaps  she  was  too  sluggish,  and,  upon  attempting  to  arouse 
her,  I  discovered  that  she  was  dead  !" 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  and  inform  me  ?  I  would  have 
assisted  you  in  the  last  sad  offices." 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  like  to  disturb  you.  I  did  everything  very 
well  myself." 

"  Johnny  and  I  sat  up  all  night ;  that  is,  I  suppose  he  was  up, 
though  he  left  the  room  a  little  after  midnight,  and  has  not  since 
returned.  I  should  not  wonder  if  he  has  been  walking  the  bet- 
ter part  of  the  night.  He  so  loves  solitude  and  the  night-time — 
but  then,"  she  added,  musingly  "  he  has  a  bad  cough,  and  it 
may  be  dangerous.  The  night  was  chilly,  the  atmosphere 
heavy.  What  if  this  imprudence  should  rapidly  develop  a 
fearful  disease  ?■"  she  seemed  much  concerned. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  she,  "  and  search  for  him  ;"  but  ere  these 
words  had  fairly  died  upon  her  lips,  we  were  startled  by  a 
cough,  and,  looking  up,  we  beheld  the  subject  of  our  conversa- 
tion within  a  few  steps  of  us.  Oh,  how  wretchedly  he  was 
changed  !  It  appeared  as  if  the  wreck  of  years  had  been  ac- 
complished in  the  brief  space  of  a  night.  Haggard  and  pale, 
with  his  eyes  roving  listlessly,  dark  purple  lines  of  unusual 
depth  surrounding  them,  and  with  his  bright,  gold  hair,  heavy 
with  the  dew,  and  hanging  neglected  around  his  noble  head, 


THE    HEMORRHAGE.  163 

even  his  clear,  pearl-like  complexion  appeared  dark  and  discol- 
ored. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Johnny  V  asked  Miss  Bradly. 

"  To  commune  with  the  lonely  and  comfort  the  hound  ;  at  the 
door  of  the  '  lock-up,'  our  miniature  Bastile,  I  have  spent  the 
night."  Here  commenced  a  paroxysm  of  coughing,  so  violent 
that  he  was  obliged  to  seat  himself  upon  the  door-sill. 

"  Oh,  Johnny,"  exclaimed  the  terrified  lady. 

But  as  he  attempted  to  check  her  fears,  another  paroxysm, 
still  more  frightful,  took  place,  and  this  time  the  blood  gushed 
copiously  from  his  mouth.  Miss  Bradly  threw  her  arms  ten- 
derly around  him,  and,  after  a  succession  of  rapid  gushes  of 
blood,  his  head  fell  languidly  on  her  shoulder,  like  a  pale,  broken 
lily! 

I  instantly  ran  to  call  up  the  ladies,  when  master  approached 
from  his  chamber ;  seeing  young  master  lying  so  pale,  cold,  and 
insensible  in  the  arms  of  Miss  Bradly,  he  concluded  he  was 
dead,  and,  crying  out  in  a  frantic  tone,  he  asked, 

"  In  h — l's  name,  what  has  happened  to  my  boy  ?" 

"  He  has  had  a  violent  hemorrhage,"  replied  Miss  Bradly, 
with  an  ill-disguised  composure. 

The  sight  of  the  blood,  which  lay  in  puddles  and  clots  over 
the  steps,  increased  the  terror  of  the  father,  and,  frantically 
seizing  his  boy  in  his  arms,  he  covered  the  still,  pale  face  with 
kisses. 

"  Oh,  my  boy  !  my  boy  !  how  much  you  are  like  her  !  This 
is  her  mouth,  eyes,  and  nose,  and  now  you  'pears  jist  like  she 
did  when  I  seed  her  last.  These  limbs  are  stiff  and  frozen. 
It  can't  be  death  ;  no,  it  can't  be.  I  haven't  killed  you,  too — 
say,  Miss  Bradly,  is  he  dead  V 

"  No,  sir,  only  exhausted  from  the  violence  of  the  paroxysm, 
and  the  copious  hemorrhage,  but  he  requires  immediate  medical 
treatment ;   send,  promptly,  for  Dr.  Mandy." 

Master  turned  to  me,  saying, 

"  Gal,  go  order  Jake  to  mount  the  swiftest  horse,  and  ride 


164        AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

for  life  and  death  to  Dr.  Mandy ;  tell  him  to  come  instantly, 
my  son  is  dying.'' 

I  obeyed,  and,  with  all  possible  promptitude,  the  message 
was  dispatched.  Oh,  how  different  when  Ms  son  was  ill.  Then 
you  could  see  that  human  life  was  valuable  ;  had  it  been  a 
negro,  he  would  have  waited  until  after  breakfast  before  send- 
ing for  a  doctor. 

Mr.  Peterkin  bore  his  son  into  the  house,  placed  him  on  the 
bed,  and,  seating  himself  beside  him,  watched  with  a  tender- 
ness that  I  did  not  think  belonged  to  his  harsh  nature. 

In  a  very  short  time  Jake  returned  with  Dr.  Mandy,  who, 
after  feeling  young  master's  pulse,  sounding  his  chest,  and  ap- 
plying the  stethescope,  said  that  he  feared  it  was  an  incipient 
form  of  lung-fever.  We  had  much  cause  for  apprehension. 
There  was  a  perplexed  expression  upon  the  face  of  the  doctor, 
a  tremulousness  in  his  motions,  which  indicated  that  he  was  in 
great  fear  and  doubt  as  to  the  case.  He  left  some  powders,  to 
be  administered  every  hour,  and,  after  various  and  repeated  in- 
junctions to  Miss  Bradly,  who  volunteered  to  nurse  the  patient, 
he  left  the  house. 

After  taking  the  first  powder,  young  master  lay  in  a  deep, 
unbroken  sleep  As  I  stood  by  his  bedside  I  saw  how 
altered  he  was.  The  cheek,  which,  when  he  was  walking,  had 
seemed  round  and  full,  was  now  shrunk  and  hollow,  and  a  fiery 
spot  burned  there  like  a  living  coal ;  and  the  dark,  purple  ring 
that  encircled  the  eyes,  and  the  sharp  contraction  of  the  thin 
nostril,  were  to  me  convincing  omens  of  the  grave.  Then,  too, 
the  anxious,  care-written  face  of  Miss  Bradly  tended  to  deepen 
my  apprehension.  How  my  friends  were  falling  around  me  ! 
Now,  just  when  I  was  beginning  to  live,  came  the  fell  destroyer 
of  my  happiness.  Happiness  ?  Oh,  does  it  not  seem  a  mockery 
for  the  slave  to  employ  that  word  1  As  if  he  had  anything  to  do 
with  it  !  The  slave,  who  owns  nothing,  ay,  literally  nothing. 
His  wife  and  children  are  all  his  master's.  His  very  wearing 
apparel  becomes  another's.  He  has  no  right  to  use  it,  save  as 
he  is  advised  by  his  owner.     Go,  my  kind  reader,  to  the  hotels 


THE    COMMUNICATION.  1G5 

of  the  South  and  South-west,  look  at  the  worn  and  dejected 
countenances  of  the  slaves,  and  tell  me  if  you  do  not  read 
misery  there.  Look,  in  at  the  saloons  of  the  restaurants,  coffee- 
houses, &c,  at  late  hours  of  the  night ;  there  you  will  see  them, 
tired,  worn  and  weary,  with  their  aching  heads  bandaged  up, 
sighing  for  a  few  moments'  sleep.  There  the  proud,  luxurious, 
idle  whites  sip  their  sherbets,  drink  wine,  and  crack  their  ever- 
lasting jokes,  but  there  must  stand  your  obsequious  slave,  with 
a  smile  on  his  face,  waiter  in  hand,  ready  to  attend  to  ''  Master's 
slightest  wish."  No  matter  if  his  tooth  is  aching,  or  his  child 
dying,  he  must  smile,  or  be  flogged  for  gruffness.  This  "  chat- 
tel personal,"  though  he  bear  the  erect  form  of  a  man,  has  no 
right  to  any  privileges  or  emotions.  Oh,  nation  of  the  free,  how 
long  shall  this  be  ?  Poor,  suffering  Africa,  country  of  my 
sires,  how  much  longer  upon  thy  bleeding  shoulders  must  the 
cross  be  pressed  !  Is  there  no  tomb  where,  for  a  short  space, 
thou  shalt  lie,  and  then,  bursting  the  bonds  of  night  and 
death,  spring  up  free,  redeemed  and  regenerate  V 

"  Oh,  will  he  die  ?"  I  murmured,  "  he  who  reconciles  me  to 
my  bondage,  who  is  my  only  friend  1  Another  affliction  I  can- 
not bear  ;  I've  been  so  tried  in  the  furnace,  that  I  have  not 
strength  to  meet  another." 

Those  thoughts  passed  through  my  brain  as  I  stood  beside 
young  master;  but  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Peterkin  diverted  them, 
and,  stepping  up  to  him,  I  said,  "  Master,  Aunt  Polly  is  dead." 

"You  lie  !"  he  thundered  out. 

"  No,  Mr.  Peterkin,  the  old  woman  is  really  dead,"  said  Miss 
Bradly,  in  a  kind  but  mournful  tone. 

"  Who  killed  her  ?"  again  he  thundered. 

Ay,  who  did  kill  her  ?  Could  I  not  have  answered,  "  Thou 
art  the  man"?  But  I  did  not.  Silently  I  stood  before  him, 
never  daring  to  trust  myself  with  a  word. 

"  What  time  did  she  kick  the  bucket  ?"  asked  Mr.  Peterkin, 
in  one  of  the  favorite  Kentucky  vulgarisms,  whereby  the  most 
solemn  and  awful  debt  of  nature  is  ridiculed  by  the  unthinking. 


166  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

I  told  him  how  I  had  found  her,  what  I  had  done,  &c,  all  of 
which  is  known  to  the  reader. 

''  I  believe  h — 1  is  loose  among  the  niggers.  Now,  here's 
Poll  had  to  die  bekase  she  couldn't  cut  any  other  caper.  I 
might  have  made  a  sight  o'  money  by  her  sale ;  and  she,  old 
fool,  had  to  cut  me  outen  it.  "Wal,  I'll  only  have  to  sell  some 
of  the  others,  fur  I's  bound  to  make  up  a  sartin  sum  of  money 
to  pay  to  some  of  my  creditors  in  L ." 

This  speech  was  addressed  to  Miss  Bradly,  upon  whom  it 
made  not  half  the  impression  that  it  did  upon  me.  How  I 
hoped  I  should  be  one,  for  if  young  master,  as  I  began  to  be- 
lieve, should  die  soon,  the  place  would  become  to  me  more 
horrible  than  a  tiger's  den.     Any  change  was  desirable. 

When  the  young  ladies  rose  from  their  beds  I  went  in  to 
attend  on  them,  and  communicated  the  hews  of  young  master's 
illness  and  Aunt  Polly's  death.  For  their  brother  they  ex- 
pressed much  concern,  but  the  faithful  old  domestic,  who  had 
served  them  so  long,  was  of  no  more  consequence  than  a  dog. 
Miss  Jane  did  seem  provoked  to  think  that  she  ''had  died  on 
their  hands,"  as  she  expressed  it.  "  If  pa  had  sold  her  months 
ago,  we  might  have  had  the  money,  or  something  valuable,  but 
now  we  must  go  to  the  expense  of  furnishing  her  with  a  coffin." 

"  Coffin  !  hoity-toity  !  Father's  not  going  to  give  her  a  coffin, 
an  old  store-box  is  good  enough  to  put  her  old  carcass  in.'7  And 
thus  they  spoke  of  one  of  God's  dead. 

Usually  persons  respect  those  upon  whom  death  has  set  his 
ghastly  signet ;  but  these  barbarians  (for  such  I  think  they 
must  have  been)  spoke  with  an  irreverence  of  one  whose  body 
lay  still  and  cold,  only  few  steps  from  them.  To  some  people 
no  thing  or  person  is  sacred. 

After  breakfast  I  waited  in  great  anxiety  to  hear  how  and 
when  master  intended  to  have  Aunt  Polly  buried. 

I  had  gone  into  the  little  desolate  cabin,  which  was  now  con- 
secrated by  the  presence  of  the  dead.  There  she  lay,  cold  and 
ashen ;  and  the  long  white  strip  that  I  had  thrown  over  her  was 
too  thin  to  conceal  the  face.     It  was  an  old  muslin  curtain  that 


DEATH.  167 

T  liad  found  in  looking  over  the  boxes  of  the  deceased,  and  out 
of  respect  had  flung  it  over  the  remains.  So  rigid  and  hard- 
set  seemed  her  features  in  that  last,  deep  sleep,  so  tightly 
locked  were  those  bony  fingers,  so  mournful  looked  the  straight- 
ened, stiffened  form,  so  devoid  of  speculation  the  half-closed 
eyes,  that  I  turned  away  with  a  shudder,  saying  inwardly  : 

"  Oh,  death,  thou  art  revolting !"  Yet  when  I  bethought  me 
of  the  peace  passing  human  understanding  into  which  she  bad 
gone,  the  safe  bourne  that  she  had  attained,  "where  the  Avicked 
cease  from  troubling  and  the  weary  are  at  rest ;"  when  I  thought 
of  this,  death  lost  its  horror,  and  the  grave  its  gloom.  Oh, 
Eternity,  problem  that  the  living  can  never  solve.  Oh,  death, 
full  of  victory  to  the  Christian  !  wast  thou  not,  to  my  old  and 
weary  friend,  a  messenger  of  sweet  peace ;  and  was  not  the 
tomb  a  gateway  to  new  and  undreamed-of  happiness  ?  Yes,  so 
will  I  believe  ;  for  so  believing  am  I  made  joyful. 

Relieved  thus  by  faith  from  the  burden  of  grief,  I  moved 
gently  about  the  room,  trying  to  bring  something  like  order  to 
its  ragged  appearance  ;  for  Jake,  who  had  been  dispatched  for 
Doctor  Mandy  to  come  and  see  young  master,  had  met  on  the 
way  a  colored  preacher,  to  whom  he  announced  Aunt  Polly's 
death,  and  who  had  promised  to  come  and  preach  a  funeral  ser- 
mon, and  attend  the  burial.  This  was  to  the  other  negroes  a 
great  treat ;  they  regarded  a  funeral  as  quite  a  gala  occasion, 
inasmuch  as  we  had  never  had  such  a  thing  upon  the  farm.  I 
had  my  own  doubts,  though  I  did  not  express  them,  Avhether 
master  would  permit  it. 

Young  master  still  slept,  from  the  strong  effects  of  the  sleep- 
ing potion  which  had  been  administered  to  him.  Miss  Bradly, 
overcome  by  the  night's  watching,  dozed  in  a  large  chair  beside 
the  bed,  and  an  open  Bible,  in  which  she  had  been  reading,  lay 
upon  her  lap.  The  blinds  were  closed,  but  the  dim  light  of  a 
small  fire  that  blazed  on  the  hearth  gave  some  appearance  of 
life  to  the  room.  Every  one  who  passed  in  and  out,  stepped  on 
tip-toe,  as  if  fearful  of  arousing  the  sleeper. 

Oh,  the   comfort  of  a  white  skin  !     No  darkened  room,  no 


168  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

comfortable  air,  marked  the  place  where  she  my  friend  had  died. 
No  hushed  dread  nor  whispered  voice  paid  respect  to  the  cabin- 
room  where  lay  her  dead  body ;  but,  thanks  to  God,  in  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection  we  shall  come  forth  alike,  regardless 
of  the  distinctions  of  color  or  race,  each  one  to  render  a  faithful 
account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body. 

Mr.  Peterkin  came  to  the  kitchen-door,  and  called  Nace, 
saying  : 

"  Where  is  that  old  store-box  that  the  goods  and  domestics 
for  the  house  was  fetched  home  in,  from  L ,  last  fall?" 

"  It's  in  de  smoke-house,  Masser." 

"  Wal,  go  git  it,  and  bury  ole  Poll  in  it." 

"It's  right  dirty  and  greasy,  Master,"  I  ventured  to  say. 

"  Who  keres  if  'tis1?  What  right  has  you  to  speak,  slut?" 
and  he  gave  me  a  violent  kick  in  the  side  with  his  rough  brogan. 

"  Take  that  for  yer  imperdence.  Who  tole  you  to  put  yer 
mouth  in?" 

Nace  and  Dan  soon  produced  the  box,  which  had  no  top,  and 
was  dirty  and  greasy,  as  it  well  might  be  from  its  year's  lodg- 
ment in  the  meat-house. 

"  Now,  go  dig  a  hole  and  put  Poll  in  it." 

As  master  was  turning  away,  he  was  met  by  a  neatly-dressed 
black  man,  who  wore  a  white  muslin  cravat  and  white  cotton 
gloves,  and  carried  two  books  in  his  hand.  He  had  an  humble, 
reverent  expression,  and  I  readily  recognized  him  as  the  free 
colored  preacher  of  the  neighborhood — a  good,  religious  man, 
God-fearing  and  God-serving.  No  one  knew  or  could  say  aught 
against  him.  How  I  did  long  to  speak  to  him  ;  to  sit  at  his 
feet  as  a  disciple,  and  learn  from  him  heavenly  truths. 

As  master  turned  round,  the  preacher,  with  a  polite  air,  took 
off  his  hat,  saying  : 

"  Your  servant,  Master." 

"  What  do  you  want,  nigger  ?" 

"  Why,  Master,  I  heard  that  one  of  your  servants  was  dead, 
and  I  come  to  ask  your  leave  to  convene  the  friends  in  a  short 
prayer-meeting,  if  you  will  please  let  us." 


THE    PREACHER.  169 

"  No,  I  be  d d  if  you  shall,  you  rascally  free  nigger ;  if 

you  don*t  git  yourself  off  my  place,  I'll  git  my  cowhide  to  you. 
I  wants  none  of  yer  torn-foolery  here." 

"  I  beg  Master's  pardon,  but  I  meant  no  harm.  I  generally 
go  to  see  the  sick,  and  hold  prayer  over  the  dead." 

"  You  doesn't  do  it  here ;  and  now  take  your  dirty  black  hide 
away,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

Without  saying  one  word,  tbe  mortified  preacher,  who  had 
meant  well,  turned  away.  I  trust  he  did  as  the  apostles  of  old 
were  bidden  by  their  Divine  Master  to  do,  "  shook  the  dust 
from  his  feet  against  that  house."  Oh,  coarse  and  sense-bound 
man,  you  refused  entertainment  to  an  "angel,  unawares." 

"  Well,  I  sent  that  prayin'  rascal  a  flyin'  quick  enough  ;"  and 
with  this  self-gratulatory  remark,  he  entered  the  house. 

Nace  and  Jake  carried  the  box  into  the  cabin,  preceded  by 
me. 

Most  reverently  I  laid  away  the  muslin  from  the  face  and 
form ;  and  lifting  the  bead,  while  Nace  assisted  at  the  feet,  we 
attempted  to  place  the  body  in  the  box,  but  found  it  impossible, 
as  the  box  was  much  too  short.  Upon  Nace's  representing  this 
difficulty  to  Mr.  Peterkin,  he  only  replied : 

"  Wal,  bury  her  on  a  board,  without  any  more  foolin' 
'bout  it." 

This  harsh  mandate  was  obeyed  to  the  letter.  With  great 
expedition,  Nace  and  Jake  dug  a  hole  in  the  earth,  and  laid  a 
few  planks  at  the  bottom,  upon  which  I  threw  an  old  quilt,  and 
on  that  hard  bed  they  laid  her.  Good  and  faithful  servant, 
even  in  death  thou  wast  not  allowed  a  bed  !  Over  the  form  I 
spread  a  covering,  and  the  men  laid  a  few  planks,  box-fashion, 
over  that,  and  then  began  roughly  throwing  on  the  fresh  earth. 
"  Dust  to  dust,"  I  murmured,  and,  with  a  secret  prayer,  turned 
from  her  unmarked  resting-place.  Mr.  Peterkin  expressly  or- 
dered that  it  should  not  have  a  grave  shape,  and  so  it  was 
patted  and  smoothed  down,  until,  save  for  the  moisture  and 
fresh  color  of  the  earth,  you  could  not  have  known  that  the 
ground  had  ever  been  broken. 
8 


OHAPTBE  XX. 

THE  TRADER — A  TERRIBLE  FRIGHT — POWER  OF  PRAYER — 
GRIEF  OF  THE  HELPLESS. 

About  noon  a  gaudily-dressed  and  rough-looking  man  rode 
up  to  the  gate,  and  alighted  from  a  fine  bay  horse.  With  that 
free  and  easy  sort  of  way  so  peculiar  to  a  certain  class  of  man- 
kind, he  walked  up  the  avenue  to  the  front  door. 

"  Gal,"  he  said,  addressing  me,  "  whar's  yer  master  ?" 

"  In  the  house.     Will  you  walk  in  ?" 

''No,  it  is  skersely  worth  while  ;  jist  tell  him  that  me,  Bill 
Tompkins,  wants  to  see  him  ;  but  stay,"  he  added,  as  I  was 
turning  to  seek  my  master,  "  is  you  the  gal  he  sold  to  me  yes- 
terday ?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  Wal,  you  is  devilish  likely.  Put  out  yer  foot.  Wal,  it  is 
nice  enuff  to  belong  to  a  white  'ooman.  You  is  a  bright-colored 
mulatto.     I  must  have  you." 

"  Heavens!  I  hope  not,"  was  my  half-uttered  expression,  as 
I  turned  away,  for  I  had  caught  the  meaning  of  that  lascivious 
eye,  and  shrank  from  the  threatened  danger.  Though  I  had 
been  cruelly  treated,  yet  had  I  been  allowed  to  retain  my  per- 
son inviolate  ;  and  I  would  rather,  a  thousand-fold,  have  endured 
the  brutality  of  Mr.  Peterkin,  than  those  loathsome  looks  which 
I  felt  betokened  ruin. 

"Master,  a  man,  calling  himself  Bill  Tompkins,  wishes  to  see 
you,"  said  I,  as  I  entered  his  private  apartment. 

"  Can't  yer  say  Mr.  Tompkins  ?" 

•'  He  told  me  to  tell  you  Bill  Tompkins ;  I  only  repeat  his 
words." 

"Wharishe?" 

[170] 


FEAR.  171 

"  At  the  front  door." 

"  Didn't  yer  ax  Mm  in,  hussy  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  he  refused,  saying  it  was  not  worth  while." 

"Oh,"  thought  I,  when  left  alone,  "  am  I  sold  to  that  mon- 
ster ?  Am  I  to  become  so  utterly  degraded  ?  No,  no  ;  rather 
than  yield  my  purity  I  will  give  up  my  life,  and  trust  to  God 
to  pardon  the  suicide." 

In  this  state  of  mind  I  wandered  up  and  down  the  yard,  into 
the  kitchen,  into  the  cabin,  into  the  room  where  young  master 
lay  sleeping,  into  the  presence  of  the  young  ladies,  and  out 
again  into  the  air ;  yet  my  curious,  feverish  restlessness,  could 
not  be  allayed.  A  trader  was  in  the  house — a  bold,  obscene 
man,  and  into  his  possession  I  might  fall !  Oh,  happy  indeed 
must  be  those  who  feel  that  he  or  they  have  the  exclusive  cus- 
tody of  their  own  persons ;  but  the  poor  negro  has  nothing,  not 
even — save  in  rare  cases — the  liberty  of  choosing  a  home. 

I  had  not  dared,  since  daylight,  to  go  near  the  "  lock-up," 
for  a  fearful  punishment  would  have  been  due  the  one  whom 
Mr.  Peterkin  found  loitering  there. 

I  was  so  tortured  by  apprehension,  that  my  eyes  burned  and 
my  head  ached.  I  had  heard  master  say  that  the  unlooked-for 
death  of  Aunt  Polly  would  force  him  to  sell  some  of  the  other 
slaves,  in  order  to  realize  a  certain  sum  of  money,  and  Tomp- 
kins had  expressed  a  desire  for  me.  It  was  likely  that  he 
would  offer  a  good  price  ;  then  should  I  be  lost.  Oh,  heavenly 
Virtue  !  do  not  desert  me  !  Let  me  bear  up  under  the  fiercest 
trials  ! 

I  had  wandered  about,  in  this  half-crazed  manner,  never  dar- 
ing to  venture  within  "  ear-shot"  of  master  and  Mr.  Tompkins, 
fearing  that  the  latter  might,  upon  a  second  sight  of  me,  have 
the  fire  of  his  wicked  passions  aroused,  and  then  my  fate  would 
be  sealed. 

I  determined  to  hide  in  the  cabin,  to  pray  there,  in  the  room 
that  had  been  hallowed  by  the  presence  of  God's  angel  of 
Death  ;  but  there,  cowering  on  the  old  brick  hearth,  like  a  hen 
with  her  brood  of  chickens,  I  found,  to  my  surprise,  Amy,  with 


172  AUT0B10GRAI>HY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

little  Ben  in  her  arms,  and  the  two  girls  crouched  close  to  her 
side,  evidently  feeling  that  her  presence  was  sufficient  to  protect 
them. 

"  Lor',  Ann,"  said  Amy,  her  wide  eyes  stretched  to  their 
utmost  tension,  "thar  is  a  trader  talkin'  wid  Masser;  I  woh'er 
whose  gwine  to  be  sole.     I  hope  tain't  us." 

I  didn't  dare  reply  to  her.  I  feared  for  myself,  and  I  feared 
for  her. 

Kneeling  down  in  the  corner  of  the  cabin,  I  besought  mercy 
of  the  All-merciful ;  but  somehow,  my  prayers  fell  back  cold 
upon  my  heart.  God  seemed  a  great  way  off,  and  I  could  not 
realize  the  presence  of  angels.  "  Oh,"  I  cried,  "  for  the  uplift- 
ing faith  that  hath  so  often  blest  me  !  oh  for  the  hopefulness, 
the  trustingness  of  times  past !  Why,  why  is  the  gate  of  heaven 
shut  against  me  ?  Why  am  I  thus  self-bound  ?  Oh,  for  a  wider, 
broader  and  more  liberal  view  !  But  I  could  not  pray.  Great 
God  !  had  that  last  and  only  soul-stay  been  taken  from  me  ? 
With  a  black  hopelessness  gathering  at  my  heart,  I  arose  from 
my  knees,  and  looked  round  upon  those  desolate  orphans, 
shrinking  terror-stricken,  hiding  away  from  the  merciless  pursuit 
of  a  giant ;  and  then  I  bethought  me  of  my  own  desolation,  and 
I  almost  arraigned  the  justice  of  Heaven.  Most  wise  Father  ! 
pardon  me  !  Thou,  who  wast  .tempted  by  Satan,  and  to  whom 
the  cup  of  mortality  was  bitter,  pity  me  and  forgive  ! 

Turning  away  from  the  presence  of  those  pleading  children 
I  entered  the  kitchen,  and  there  were  Jake  and  Dan,  terror 
written  on  their  strong,  hard  faces ;  for,  no  matter  how  hard  is 
the  negro's  present  master,  he  always  regards  a  change  of  owners 
as  entailing  new  dangers  ;  and  no  wonder  that,  from  education 
and  experience,  he  is  thus  suspicious,  for  so  many  troubles  have 
come  and  do  come  upon  him,  that  he  cannot  imagine  a  change 
whereby  he  is  to  be  benefited. 

"  Has  you  hearn  anything,  Ann  V!  asked  Dan,  with  his  great 
flabby  lips  hanging  loosely  open,  and  his  eyes  considerably  dis- 
tended. 

"  Nothing." 


EXAMINATION.  173 

"Who's  gwine  to  be  sole  ?"  asked  Jake. 

"  I  don't  know  ?" 

"  Hope  tisn't  me." 

"And  hope  tisn't  me,"  burst  from  the  lips  of  both  of  them,  and 
to  this  my  heart  gave  a  fervent  though  silent  echo. 

"  He  is  de  one  dat's  bought  Lindy,"  said  old  Nace,  who  now 
entered,  "  and  Masser's  gwine  to  sell  some  de  rest  ob  yer." 

"Why  do  yer  say  de  rest  ob  yer  ?  Why  mayn't  it  be  you  ?" 
asked  Dan. 

"  Bekase  he  ain't  gwine  to  sell  me,  ha  !  ha  !  I  sarved  him  too 
long  fur  dat." 

Ginsy  and  Sally  came  rushing  in,  frightened,  like  all  the  rest, 
exclaiming, 

"  Oh,  we's  in  danger  ;  a  nigger-trader  is  talkin'  wid  master." 

We  had  no  time  for  prolonged  speculation,  for  the  voice  of 
Mr.  Peterkin  was  heard  in  the  entry,  and,  throwing  open  the 
door,  he  entered,  followed  by  Tompkins. 

"  Here's  the  gang,  and  a  devilish  good-lookin'  set  they  is." 

"  Yes,  but  let  me  fust  see  the  one  I  have  bought." 

"Here,  Nace,"  said  master,  "take  this  key,  and  tell  Lindy  to 
dress  herself  and  come  here."  The  last  part  of  this  sentence 
was  said  in  an  under-tone. 

In  terror  I  fled  from  the  kitchen.  Scarcely  knowing  what  I 
did,  I  rushed  into  the  young  ladies'  room,  into  which  Nace  had 
conducted  Lindy,  upon  whom  they  were  placing  some  of  their 
old  finery.  A  half-worn  calico  dress,  gingham  apron  and  white 
collar,  completed  the  costume.  I  never  shall  forget  the  expres- 
sion of  Lindy's  face,  as  she  looked  vacantly  around  her,  hunting 
for  sympathy,  yet  finding  none,  from  the  cold,  haughty  faces 
that  gazed  upon  her. 

"  Now  go,"  said  Miss  Jane,  "  and  try  to  behave  yourself  in 
your  new  home." 

"  Good-bye,  Miss  Jane,"  said  the  humbled,  weeping  negro. 

"  Good-bye,"  was  coldly  answered;  but  no  hand  was  extended 
to  her. 

"  Good-bye,  Miss  Tildy." 


1^4  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Miss  Tildy,  who  was  standing  at  the  glass  arranging  her 
hair,  never  turned  round  to  look  upon  the  poor  wretch,  but  care- 
lessly said, 

"  Good-bye." 

She  looked  toward  me  ;  her  lip  was  quivering  and  tears  were 
rolling  down  her  cheeks.  I  turned  my  head  away,  and  she 
walked  off  with  the  farewell  unspoken. 

Quickly  I  heard  Jake  calling  for  me.  Then  I  knew  that  my 
worst  fears  were  on  the  point  of  realization.  With  a  timid,  hesi- 
tating step,  I  walked  to  the  kitchen.  There,  ranged  in  single 
file,  stood  the  servants,  with  anxious  faces,  where  a  variety  of 
contending  feelings  were  written.  I  nerved  myself  for  what  I 
knew  was  to  follow,  and  stepping  firmly  up,  joined  the  pha- 
lanx. 

"  That's  the  one,"  said  Tompkins,  as  he  eyed  me  with  that 
same  look.  There  he  stood,  twirling  a  heavy  bunch  of  seals  which 
depended  from  a  large,  curiously-wrought  chain.  He  looked 
more  like  a  fiend  than  a  man. 

"  This  here  one  is  your'n,"  said  Mr.  Peterldn,  pointing  to 
Lindy;  "and,  gal,  that  gentleman  is  yer  master" 

Lindy  dropped  a  courtesy  to  him,  and  tried  to  wipe  away  her 
tears ;  for  experience  had  taught  her  that  the  only  safe  course 
was  to  stifle  emotions. 

"  Here,  gal,  open  yer  mouth,"  Tompkins  said  to  Lindy.  She 
obeyed. 

"  Now  let  me  feel  yer  arms." 

He  then  examined  her  feet,  ankles,  legs,  passed  his  hands  over 
various  parts  of  her  body,  made  her  walk  and  move  her  limbs 
in  different  ways,  and  then,  seemingly  satisfied  with  the  bargain, 
said, 

"  Wal,  that  trade  is  closed." 

Looking  toward  me,  his  dissolute  eyes  began  to  glare  furi- 
ously. Again  my  soul  quailed;  but  I  tried  to  govern  myself, 
and  threw  upon  him  a  glance  as  cold  as  ice  itself. 

"  What  will  you  take  for  this  yallow  gal  ?"  he  said,  as  he  laid 
his  hand  upon  my  shoulder.     I  shrank  beneath  his  touch ;  yet 


FRIGHT.  175 

resistance  would  only  have  made  the  case  worse,  and  I  was 
compelled  to  submit. 

"I  ain't  much  anxious  to  sell  her;  she  is  my  darter  Jane's 
waitin'  'ooman,  and,  you  see,  my  darters  are  putty  much  stuck 
up.  They  thinks  they  must  have  a  waitin'-maid  ;  but,  if  you 
offer  a  far  price,  maybe  we  will  close  in." 

"  Wal,  as  she  is  a  fancy  article,  I'll  jist  say  take  twelve 
hundred  dollars,  and  that's  more  an'  she's  actilly  worth ;  but  I 
wants  her  fur  my  own  use  ;  a  sorter  private  gal  like,  you  knows," 
and  he  gave  a  lascivious  blink,  which  Mr.  Peterkin  seemed  to 
understand.  I  felt  a  deep  crimson  suffuse  my  face.  Ob,  God ! 
this  was  the  heaviest  of  all  afflictions.  Sold  !  and  for  such  a 
purpose  ! 

"  I  reckon  the  bargain  is  closed,  then,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin. 

I  felt ,  despair  coiling  around  my  heart.  Yet  I  knew  that  to 
make  an  appeal  to  their  humanity  would  be  worse  than  idle. 

"  Who,  which  of  them  have  you  sold,  father  ?"  asked  Miss 
Jane,  who  entered  the  kitchen,  doubtless  for  the  humane  object 
of  witnessing  the  distress  of  the  poor  creatures. 

"  Wal,  Lindy's  sold,  and  we  are  'bout  closing  the  bargain 
for  Ann." 

"  Wby,  Ann  belongs  to  me." 

"  Yes,  but  Tompkins  offers  twelve  hundred  dollars  ;  and  six 
hundred  of  it  you  sbill  bave  to  git  new  furniture." 

"  She  shan't  go  for  six  thousand.  I  want  an  accomplished 
maid  when  I  go  up  to  the  city,  and  she  just  suits  me.  Re- 
member I  have  your  deed  of  gift." 

This  relieved  me  greatly,  for  I  understood  her  determina- 
tion ;  and,  though  I  knew  all  sorts  of  severity  would  be  exer- 
cised over  me  in  my  present  home,  I  felt  assured  tbat  my  honor 
would  remain  unstained. 

The  trader  tried  to  persuade  and  coax  Miss  Jane ;  but  she 
remained  impervious  to  all  of  his  importunities. 

"  Wal,  then,"  he  said,  after  finding  she  would  yield  to  no 
argument,  "  haven't  you  none  others  you  can  let  me  have  ?  I 
am  'bliged  to  fill  up  my  lot." 


176  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OP   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

''  Wal,  since  my  darter  won't  trade  nohow,  I  must  try  and 
let  you  have  some  of  the  others,  though  I  don't  care  much 
'bout  sellin'." 

Mr.  Peterkin  was  what  was  called  tight  on  a  trade ;  now, 
though  he  was  anxious  enough  to  sell,  he  affected  to  be  perfectly 
indifferent.  This  was  what  would  be  termed  an  excellent  ruse 
de  guerre. 

"  If  you  want  children,  I  think  we  can  supply  you/'  said 
Miss  Jane,  and,  looking  round,  she  asked, 

"  Where  are  Amy  and  her  sisters  ?" 

My  heart  sank  within  me,  and,  though  I  knew  full  well- 
where  they  were,  I  would  not  speak. 

Little  Jim,  the  son  of  G-insy,  cried  out, 

"  Yes,  I  know  where  dey  is.     I  seed  em  in  dar." 

"  Well,  run  you  young  rascal,  and  tell  'em  to  come  here  in  a 
minnit,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin  ;  and  away  the  boy  scampered.  In 
a  few  moments  he  returned,  followed  by  Amy,  who  was  bear- 
ing Ben  in  her  arms  ;  and,  holding  on  to  her  skirts,  were  the 
two  girls,  terror  limned  on  their  dark,  shining  faces. 

"  Step  up  here  to  this  gentleman,  Amy,  and  say  how  would 
you  like  him  for  a  master  ?"  said  Mr.  Peterkin. 

"  Please,  sir,"  replied  Amy,  "  I  don't  kere  whar  I  goes,  so  I 
takes  these  chillen  wid  me." 

"  I  do  not  want  Amy  to  be  sold.  Sell  the  children,  father  ; 
but  let  us  keep  Amy  for  a  house-girl."  Cold  and  unfeeling 
looked  the  lady  as  she  pronounced  these  words  ;  but  could 
you  have  seen  the  expression  of  Amy's  face!  There  is  no 
human  language,  no  painter's  power,  to  show  forth  the  eye  of 
frantic  madness  with  which  the  girl  glared  around  on  all. 
Clutching  little  Ben  tightly,  savagely  to  her  bosom,  she  said  no 
word,  and  all  seemed  struck  by  the  extreme  wildness  of  her 
manner. 

"  Let's  look  at  that  boy,"  said  the  trader,  as  he  attempted  to 
unfasten  Amy's  arms  but  were  locked  round  her  treasure. 

"  Dont'ee,  dont'ee,"  shrieked  the  child. 

"  Yes,  but  he  will,"  said  Mr.   Peterkin,  as,  with  a  giant's 


amy's  testimony.  177 

force,  lie  broke  asunder  the  slight  arms,  "  you  imperdent  hussy, 
arn't  you  my  property  ?  mine  to  do  what  I  pleases  with  ;  and 
do  you  dar'  to  oppose  me  ?" 

The  girl  said  nothing  ;  but  the  wild  expression  began  to  grow 
wilder,  fiercer,  and  more  frightful.  Little  Ben,  who  was  not 
accustomed  to  any  kind  of  notice,  and  felt  at  home  nowhere 
except  in  Amy's  arms,  set  up  a  furious  scream  ;  but  this  the 
trader  did  not  mind,  and  proceeded  to  examine  the  limbs. 

"  Something  is  the  matter  with  this  boy,  he's  got  hip-disease  ; 
I  knows  from  his  teeth  he  is  older  than  you  says." 

*'  Yes,"  said  Amy  seizing  the  idea,  "  he  is  weakly,  he  won't 
do  no  good  widout  me ;  buy  me  too,  please,  Masser,"  and  she 
crouched  down  at  the  trader's  feet,with  her  hands  thrown  up  in 
an  air  of  touching  supplication ;  but  she  had  gone  to  the  wrong 
tribunal  for  mercy.  Who  can  hope  to  finci  so  fair  a  flower 
blooming  amid  the  dreary  brambles  of  a  negro-trader's  breast  1 

Tompkins  took  no  other  notice  of  her  than  to  give  her  a  con- 
temptuous kick,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  thing,  get  out  of  my  way." 

Turning  to  Mr.  Peterkin  he  said, 

ft  This  boy  is  not  sound.  I  won't  have  him  at  any  price," 
and  he  handed  him  back  to  Amy,  who  exclaimed,  in  a  thrilling 
tone, 

"  Thank  God  !  Bless  you,  Masser  !"  and  she  clasped  the  shy 
little  Ben  warmly  to  her  breast. 

Ben,  whose  intellect  seemed  clouded,  looked  wonderingly 
around  on  the  group ;  then,  as  if  slowly  realizing  that  he  had 
escaped  a  mighty  trouble,  clung  closer  to  Amy. 

"  Look  here,  nigger- wench,  does  you  think  to  spile  the  sale 
of  property  in  that  ar'  way  1  Wal,  I'll  let  you  see  I'll  have 
things  my  way.  No  nigger  that  ever  was  born,  shall  dictate 
to  me." 

"  No,  father,  I'd  punish  her  well,  even  if  I  had  to  give  Ben 
away  ;  he  is  no  account  here,  merely  an  expense ;  and  do  sell 
those  other  two  girls,  Amy's  sisters." 

Mr.  Peterkin  then  called  up  Lucy  and  Janey.  I  have  men- 
tioned these  two  but  rarely  in  the  progress  of  this  book,  and  for 
8* 


178  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OP   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

the  reason  that  their  little  lives  were  not  much  interwoven  with 
the  thread  of  mine.  I  saw  them  often,  but  observed  nothing 
particular  about  them.  They  were  quiet,  taciturn,  and  what  is 
usually  called  stupid  children.  They,  like  little  Ben,  never 
ventured  far  away  from  Amy's  protecting  wing.  Now,  with  a 
shy  step  and  furtive  glance  toward  the  trader,  they  obeyed 
their  master's  summons.  Poor  Amy,  with  Ben  clasped  to  her 
heart,  strained  her  body  forward,  and  looked  with  stretched 
eyes  and  suspended  breath  toward  Tompkins,  who  was  examin- 
ing them. 

"  Wal,  I'll  give  you  three  hundred  and  fifty  a-piece  for  'em. 
Now,  come,  that's  the  highest  I'll  give,  Peterkin,  and  you 
mustn't  try  to  git  any  more  out  of  me.  You  are  a  hard  cus- 
tomer ;  but  I  am  in  a  hurry,  so  I  makes  my  largest  offer  right 
away  :  I  ain't  got  the  time  to  waste.  That's  more  'an  anybody 
else  would  give  for  'em  ;  but  I  sees  that  they  has  good  fingers 
fur  to  pick  cotton,  therefore  I  gives  a  big  price.'' 

"  It's  a  bargain,  then.  They  is  yourn ;"  and  no  doubt  Mr. 
Peterkin  thought  he  had  a  good  bargain,  or  he  never  would 
have  chewed  his  tobacco  in  that  peculiarly  self-satisfied  man- 
ner. 

"  Stand  aside,  then,"  said  the  trader,  pushing  his  new  pur- 
chases, as  if  they  were  a  bundle  of  dry  goods.  Running  up  to 
Amy,  they  began  to  hold  to  her  skirts  and  tremble  violently, 
scarcely  knowing  what  the  words  of  Tompkins  implied. 

"  Dey  ain't  sold  ?"  asked  Amy,  turning  first  from  one  to  the 
other ;  yet  no  one  answered.  Mr.  Peterkin  and  Tompkins 
were  too  busy  with  their  trade,  and  the  negroes  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  their  own  fate,  to  attend  to  her.  For  my  part  I  had 
not  strength  to  confirm  her  half-formed  doubt.  There  she 
stood,  gathering  them  to  her  side  with  a  motherly  love. 

"  What  will  you  give  fur  this  one  ?"  and  Mr.  Peterkin  pointed 
to  Ginsy,  who  stood  with  an  humble  countenance.  When 
called  up  she  made  a  low  courtesy,  and  went  through  the  ex- 
amination. Name  and  age  were  given  ;  a  fair  price  was  offered 
for  her  and  her  child,  and  was  accepted. 


THE    SLAVES.  170 

"  Take  this  boy  for  a  hundred  dollars,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin,  as 
lie  jerked  Ben  from  the  arms  of  the  half-petrified  Amy. 

"  Wal,  he  isn't  much  'count';  hut,  rather  then  seem  con- 
trary, I'll  give  that  fur  him." 

And  thus  the  trade  was  closed.  Human  beings  were  dis- 
posed of  with  as  little  feeling  as  if  they  had  been  wild  animals. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  won't,  young  Miss,  let  me  have  that  maid  of 
yourn  ;  but  I'll  be  'long  next  fall,  and,  fur  a  good  price,  I'spect 
you'll  be  willin'  to  trade.  I  wants  that  yallow  wench,"  and  he 
clicked  his  fingers  at  me. 

"  Say,  Peterkin,  ken  you  lend  me  a  wagen  to  take  'em  over 
to  my  pen  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  and  Nace  can  drive  'em  over." 

Conscious  of  having  got  a  good  price,  Mr.  Peterkin  was  in  a 
capital  humor. 

"  Come,  go  with  me,  Peterkin,  and  we'll  draw  up  the  papers, 
and  I'll  pay  you  your  money." 

This  was  an  agreeable  sound  to  master.  He  ordered  Nace  to 
bring  out  the  wagon,  and  the  order  was  hardly  given  before  it 
was  obeyed.  Dismal  looked  that  red  wagon,  the  same  which 
years  before  had  carried  me  away  from  the  insensible  form  of 
my  broken-hearted  mother.  It  appeared  more  dark  and  dreary, 
to  me,  than  a  coffin  or  hearse. 

"  Say,  Peterkin,  don't  let  'em  take  many  close  ;  jist  a 
change.  It  tires  'em  too  much  if  they  have  big  bundles  to 
carry." 

"  They  shan't  be  troubled  with  that." 

"  Now,  niggers,  git  your  bundles  and  come  'long,"  said 
master. 

''  Oh,"  cried  Lindy,  "can  I  git  to  see  young  master  before  I 
start  ?  I  wants  to  thank  him  for  de  comfort  he  gib  me  last 
night,"  and  she  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  was  start- 
ing toward  the  door  of  the  house,  when  Miss  Jane  intercepted 
her. 

"  No,  you  runaway  hussy,  you  shan't  go  in  to  disturb  him, 
and  have  a  scene  here." 


ISO         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OP  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

"  Please,  Miss  Jane,  I  only  wants  to  say  good-bye." 

"  You  shan't  do  it." 

Mournfully,  and  with  the  tears  streaming  far  down  her 
cheeks,  she  turned  to  me,  saying,  "  Please,  you,  Ann,  tell  him 
good-bye  fur  me,  and  good-bye  to  you.  I  hope  you  will  for- 
give me  for  all  de  harm  I  has  done  to  you." 

I  took  her  hand,  but  could  not  speak  a  word.  Silently  I 
pressed  it. 

"Whar's  your  close,  gal?"  asked  Tompkins. 

"  I'm  gwine  to  git  'em." 

"  Well,  be  in  a  hurry  'bout  it." 

She  went  off  to  gather  up  a  few  articles,  scarcely  sufficient 
to  cover  her ;  for  we  were  barely  allowed  a  change  of  clothing, 
and  that  not  very  decent. 

Ginsy,  leading  her  child  with  one  hand,  while  she  held  in  the 
other  a  small  bundle,  walked  up  to  Miss  Jane,  and  dropping  a 
low  courtesy,  said, 

"  Farewell,  Miss  Jane  ;  can  I  see  Miss  Tildy  and  young 
master?" 

"  No,  John  is  sick,  and  Tildy  can't  be  troubled  just  now." 

''  Yes,  ma'm ;  please  tell  'em  good-bye  fur  me ;  and  I  hopes 
young  Masser  will  soon  be  well  agin.  I'd  like  to  see  him  afore 
I  went,  but  I  don't  want  to  'sturb  him." 

'•  Well,  that  will  do,  go  on  now." 

"  Tell  young  Masser  good-bye,"  Ginsy  said,  addressing  her 
child. 

"  Good-bye,"  repeated  Miss  Jane  very  carelessly,  scarcely 
looking  toward  them,  and  they  moved  away,  and  shaking  hands 
with  the  servants,  they  marched  on  to  the  wagon. 

All  this  time  Amy  had  remained  like  one  transfixed  ;  little 
Ben  held  one  of  her  hands,  whilst  Janey  and  Luce  grasped  her 
skirts  firmly.  These  children  had  no  clothes,  for,  as  they  per- 
formed no  regular  labor,  they  were  not  allowed  a  change  of  ap- 
parel. On  a  Saturday  night,  whilst  they  slept,  Amy  washed 
out  the  articles  which  they  had  worn  during  the  week  ;  and 
now,  poor  things,  they  had  no  bundles  to  be  made  up. 


THE    PURCHASE.  181 

"  Come  'long  wid  yer,  young  ones,"  and  Tompkins  took 
Ben  by  the  Land ;  but  he  stoutly  refused  to  go,  crying  out : 

"  Go  'way,  and  let  me  'lone." 

"  Come  on,  I'll  give  you  a  lump  of  sugar." 

"  I  won't,  I  won't." 

All  of  them  held  tightly  to  Amy,  whose  vacant  face  was  so 
stony  in  its  deep  despair,  that  it  struck  terror  to  my  soul. 

"  ~N6  more  fuss,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin,  and  he  raised  his  large 
whip  to  strike  the  screaming  Ben  a  blow ;  but  that  motherly  in- 
stinct that  had  taught  Amy  to  protect  them  thus  long,  was 
not  now  dead,  and  upon  her  outstretched  arm  the  blow  descend- 
ed. A  great,  fearful  gash  was  made,  from  which  the  fresh  blood 
streamed  rapidly  ;  but  she  minded  it  not.  What,  to  that  light- 
ning-burnt soul,  were  the  wounds  of  the  body  ?  Nothing,  aye 
nothing  ! 

"  Oh,  don't  mark  'em,  Peterkin,  it  will  spile  the  sale,"  said 
Tompkins. 

"  Come  'long  now,  niggers,  I  has  no  more  time  to  wait ;" 
and,  with  a  strong  wrench,  he  broke  Ben's  arms  loose  from 
Amy's  form,  and,  holding  him  firmly,  despite  his  piteous  cries, 
he  ordered  Jake  to  bring  the  other  two  also.  This  order  was 
executed,  and  quickly  Luce  and  Janey  were  in  the  grasp  of 
Jake,  and  borne  shrieking  to  the  cart,  in  which  all  three  of 
them  were  bound  and  laid. 

Speechless,  stony,  petrified,  stood  Amy.  At  length,  as  if 
gifted  with  a  supernatural  energy,  she  leaped  forward,  as  the 
cart  drove  off,  and  fell  across  the  path,  almost  under  the  feet 
of  the  advancing  horses.  But  not  yet  for  thee,  poor  suffering 
child,  will  come  the  Angel  of  Death  !  It  has  been  decreed  that 
you  shall  endure  and  wait  a  while  longer. 

By  an  adroit  check  uf  on  the  rein,  Nace  stopped  the  wagon 
suddenly,  and  Jake,  who  was  standing  near  by,  lifted  Amy  up. 

"  Take  her  to  the  house,  and  see  that  she  does  herself  no 
harm,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin. 

Yes,  Masser,  I  will,"  was  the  reply  of  the  obsequious  Jake. 

And  so  the  cart  drove  on.     I  shall  never  forget  the  sight  ! 


182  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Those  poor,  down-cast  creatures,  tied  hand  and  foot,  were  con- 
veyed they  knew  not  whither.  The  shrieks  and  screams  of 
those  children  ring  now  in  my  ears.  Oh,  doleful,  most  doleful  ! 
Why  came  there  no  swift  execution  of  that  Divine  threat, 
''  Whoso  causeth  harm  to  one  of  these  little  ones,  it  were  bet- 
ter for  him  that  a  mill-stone  were  hung  about  his  neck  and  that 
he  were  drowned  in  the  sea." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

TOUCHING    FAREWELL     FULL     OF     PATHOS — THE     PARTING — MY 

GRIEF. 

The  half  insensible  form  of  Amy  was  borne  by  Jake  into 
the  cabin,  and  laid  upon  the  cot  which  had  been  Aunt  Polly's. 
He  then  closed  and  secured  the  door  after  him. 

Where,  all  this  time,  was  Miss  Bradly  1  She,  in  her  terror, 
had  buried  her  head  upon  the  bed,  on  which  young  master  still 
slept.  She  tried  to  drown  the  sound  of  those  frantic  cries  that 
reached  her,  despite  the  closed  door  and  barred  shutter.  Oh, 
did  they  not  reach  the  ear  of  Almighty  love  1 

''Well,  I  am  glad,"  exclaimed  Miss  Tildy,  "  that  it  is  all  over. 
Somehow,  Jane,  I  did  not  like  the  sound  of  those  young 
children's  cries.  Might  it  not  have  been  well  to  let  Amy  go 
too  ?" 

"  No,  of  course  not.  Now  that  Lindy  has  been  sold,  we 
need  a  house-girl,  and  Amy  may  be  made  a  very  good  one ;  be- 
sides, she  enraged  me  so  by  attempting  to  spoil  the  sale  of 
Ben." 

"  Did  she  do  that  ?     Oh,  well,  I  have  no  pity  for  her." 

"It  would  be  something  very  new,  Till,  for  you  to  pity  a 
nigger." 

"  So  it  would — yet  I  was  weak  enough  to  feel  badly  when  I 
heard  the  children  scream." 

"  Oh,  you  are  only  nervous." 

"  I  believe  I  am,  and  think  I  will  take  some  medicine." 

"  Take  medicine,"  to  stifle  human  pity  ! 

"What  rhubarb,  senna,  or  what  purgative  drug  would  scour  " 
the  slaveholder's  nature  of  harshness  and   brutality  ?     Could 

Q*  [183] 


184  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

tliis  be  found,  "  I  would  applaud  to  the  very  echo,  that  should 
applaud  again  ;"  but,  alas!  there  is  no  remedy  for  it.  Education 
has  taught  msury  of  them  to  guard  their  "beloved  institution" 
with  a  sort  of  patriotic  fervor  and  religious  zeal. 

When  master  returned  that  evening,  he  was  elated  to  a  won- 
derful degree.  Tompkins  had  paid  him  a  large  sum  in  ready 
cash,  and  this  put  him  in  a  good  humor  with  himself  and  every- 
body else.  He  almost  felt  kindly  toward  the  negroes.  But  I 
looked  upon  him  with  more  than  my  usual  horror.  That  great, 
bloated  face,  blazing  now  with  joy  and  the  effect  of  strong 
drink,  was  revolting  to  me.  Every  expression  of  delight  from 
his  lips  brought  to  my  mind  the  horrid  troubles  he  had  caused 
by  the  simple  exercise  of  his  tyrannic  will  upon  helpless  women 
and  children.  The  humble  appearance  of  Ginsy,  the  touching 
innocence  of  her  child,  the  unnoticed  silent  grief  of  Lindy, 
the  fearful,  heart-rending  distraction  of  Amy,  the  agony  of 
her  helpless  sisters  and  brother,  all  rose  to  my  mind  when 
I  heard  Mr.  Peterkin's  mirthful  laugh  ringing  through  the 
house; 

Late  in  the  evening  young  master  roused  up.  The  effect  of 
the  somnolent  draught  had  died  out,  and  he  woke  in  full  pos- 
session of  his  faculties.  Miss  Bradly  and  I  were  with  him  when 
he  woke.     liaising  himself  quickly  in  the  bed,  he  asked, 

"  What  hour  is  it  V 

''About  half-past  six,"  said  Miss  Bradly. 

"  So  late  ?  Then  am  I  afraid  that  all  is  over  !  Where  is 
Lindy  ?" 

"  Try  and  rest  a  little  more  ;  then  we  can  talk  !" 

" No,  I  must  know  noio" 

"  Wait  a  while  longer." 

"  Tell  me  instantly,"  he  said  with  a  nervous  impatience  very 
unusual  to  him. 

"  Drink  this,  and  I  will  then  talk  to  you,"  said  Miss  Bradly, 
as  she  beld  a  cordial  to  his  lips. 

Obediently  he  swallowed  it,  and,  as  he  returned  the  glass,  he 
asked, 


DISCUSSION.  1S5 

"  How  has  this  wretched  matter  terminated  ?  What  has 
become  of  that  unfortunate  girl  ?" 

"  She  has  been  sold." 

"  To  the  trader  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  don't  talk  about  it ;  perhaps  she  is  better  off  than 
we  think." 

"  Is  it  wise  for  us  thus  to  silence  our  sympathies  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,  when  we  are  powerless  to  act." 

"  But  have  we  not,  each  of  us,  an  influence  ?" 

*'  Yes,  but  in  such  a  dubious  way,  that  in  cases  like  the  pres- 
ent, Ave  had  better  not  openly  .manifest  it." 

"Offensive  we  should  never  be;  but  surely  we  ought  to 
assume  a  defensive  position." 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  not  excite  yourself." 

"  Don't  think  of  me.  Already  I  fear  I  am  too  self-indulged. 
Too  much  time  I  have  wasted  in  inaction." 

"  What  could  you  have  done  ?    And  now  what  can  you  do  ?" 

''  That  is  the  very  question  that  agitates  me.  Oh,  that  I 
knew  my  mission,  and  had  the  power  to  fulfil  it !" 

"  Who  of  the  others  are  sold  ?"  he  asked,  turning  to  me. 

"  Amy's  sisters  and  brother,"  and  I  could  not  avoid  tears. 

"  Amy,  too  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Oh,  God,  this  is  too  bad  !  and  is  she  not  half-distracted  ?" 

I  made  no  reply,  for  an  admonitory  look  from  Miss  Bradly 
warned  me  to  be  careful  as  to  what  I  said. 

"  Where  is  father  ?" 

"  In  his  chamber." 

"  Ann,  go  tell  him  I  wish  to  speak  with  him." 

Before  obeying  I  looked  toward  Miss  Bradly,  and,  finding 
nothing  adverse  in  her  expression,  I  went  to  do  as  he  bade. 

"  Is  he  any  worse  ?"  master  asked,  when  I  had  delivered  the 
message. 

"  No,  sir  ;  he  does  not  appear  to  be  worse,  yet  I  think  he  is 
very  feeble." 

"  What  right  has  you  to  think  anything  'bout  it  ?"  he  said,  as 


186  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   FEMALE   SLAVE. 

he  took  from    the    mantle  a  large,  black    bottle     and   drank 
from  it. 

I  made  no  reply,  but  followed  him  into  young  master's  room, 
and  pretended  to  busy  myself  about  some  trifling  matter. 

"  What  is  it  you  want,  Johnny  V 

"  Father,  you  have  done  a  wicked  thing!" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  boy  V 

"  You  have  sold  Amy's  sisters  and  brothers  away  from  her." 

''  And  what's  wicked  in  selling  a  nigger  ?" 

"  Hasn't  a  negro  human  feeling  ?" 

"  Why,  they  don't  feel  like  white  people  ;  of  course  not." 

"  That  must  be  proved,  father." 

"  Oh,  now,  my  boy,  'taint  no  use  for  yer  to  be  wastin'  of  yer 
good  feelin's  on  them  miserable,  ongrateful  niggers." 

"  They  are  not  ungrateful ;  miserable  they  are,  for  they  have 
had  much  misery  imposed  upon  them." 

"  Oh,  'taint  no  use  of  talking  'bout  it,  child,  go  to  sleep." 

"  Yes,  father,  I  shall  soon  sleep  soundly  enough,  in  our  grave- 
yard." 

Mr.  Peterkin  moved  nervously  in  his  chair,  and  young  mas 
ter  continued, 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  live  longer.  I  can  do  no  good  here,  and 
the  sight  of  so  much  misery  only  makes  me  more  wretched. 
Father,  draw  close  to  me,  I  have  lost  a  great  deal  of  blood. 
My  chest  and  throat  are  very  sore.  I  feel  that  the  tide  of  life 
ebbs  low.  I  am  going  fast.  My  little  hour  upon  earth  is  al- 
most spent.  Ere  long,  the  great  mystery  of  existence  will  be 
known  to  me.  A  cold  shadow,  with  death-dews  on  its  form, 
hovers  round  me.  I  know,  by  many  signs  unknown  to  others, 
that  death  is  now  upon  me.  This  difficult  and  labored  speech, 
this  failing  breath  and  filmy  eye,  these  heavy  night-sweats — all 
tell  me  that  the  golden  bowl  is  about  to  be  broken  :  the  silver 
cord  is  tightened  to  its  utmost  tension.  I  am  young,  father ;  I 
have  forborne  to  speak  to  you  upon  a  subject  that  has  lain  near, 
near,  very  near  my  heart."  A  violent  paroxysm  of  coughing 
here  interrupted  him.     Instantly  Miss  Bradly  was  beside  him 


CONSCIENCE.  187 

with,  a  cordial,  which  he  drank  mechanically.  "There,"  he 
continued,  as  he  poised  himself  upon  his  elbow,  "  there,  good 
Miss  Emily,  cordials  are  of  no  avail.  I  do  not  wish  to  stay. 
Father,  do  you  not  want  me  to  rest  quietly  in  my  grave  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  go  to  the  grave  at  all,  my  boy,  my 
boy,"  and  Mr.  Peterkin  burst  into  tears. 

"Yes,  but,  father,  I  am  going  there  fast,  and  no  human  power 
can  stay  me.  I  shall  be  happy  and  resigned,  if  I  can  elicit  from 
you  one  promise." 

"  What  promise  is  that?" 

"  Liberate  your  slaves." 

"Never  !" 

"  Look  at  me,  father." 

"Good  God!"  cried  Mr.  Peterkin,  as  his  eye  met  the  calm, 
clear,  fixed  gaze  of  his  son,  "  where  did  you  get  that  look  ?  heaven 
and  h — 1 !  it  will  kill  me  ;"  and,  rushing  from  the  room,  he 
sought  his  own  apartment,  where  he  drank  long  and  deeply  from 
the  black  bottle  that  graced  his  mantel-shelf.  This  was  his 
drop  of  comfort.  Always  after  lashing  a  negro,  he  drank  plenti- 
fully, as  if  to  drown  his  conscience.  Alas  !  many  another  man 
has  sought  relief  from  memory  by  such  libations  !  Yet  these 
are  the  voters,  the  noblesse,  the  lords  so  superior  to  the  lowly 
African.  These  are  the  men  who  vote  for  a  perpetuation  of  our 
captivity.  Can  we  hope  for  a  mitigation  of  our  wrongs  when 
such  men  are  our  sovereigns?  Cool,  clear- visioned  men  are 
few,  noble  philanthropic  ones  are  fewer.  What  then  have  we 
•to  hope  for  ?  Our  interests  are  at  war  with  old  established 
usages.  The  prejudices  of  society  are  against  us.  The  pride 
of  the  many  is  adverse  to  us.  All  this  we  have  to  fight  against ; 
and  strong  must  be  the  moral  force  that  can  overcome  it. 

Mr.  Peterkin  did  not  venture  in  young  master's  room  for 
several  hours  after ;  and  not  without  having  been  sent  for  re- 
peatedly. Meanwhile  I  sought  Amy,  and  found  her  lying 
on  the  floor  of  the  cabin,  with  her  face  downwards.  She  did 
not  move  when  I  entered,  nor  did   she  answer  me   when   I 


188  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

spoke.  I  lifted  her  tip,  but  the  hard,  stony  expression  of  her 
face,  frightened  me. 

"  Amy,  I  will  be  your  friend." 

''  I  don't  want  any  friend." 

"Yes  you  do,  you  like  me." 

"  No  I  don't,  I  doesn't  like  anybody." 

"  Amy,  God  loves  you." 

"  I  doesn't  love  Him." 

"  Don't  talk  that  way,  child." 

"  Well,  you  go  off,  and  let  me  'lone." 

"I  wish  to  comfort  you." 

"  I  doesn't  want  no  comfort." 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "talk  freely  to  me.     It  will  do  you  good." 

''  I  tells  you  I  doesn't  want  no  good  for  to  happen  to  me. 
I'd  rather  be  like  I  is." 

"Amy,"  and  it  was  with  reluctance  I  ventured  to  allude 
to  a  subject  so  painful ;  but  I  deemed  it  necessary  to  excite 
her  painfully  rather  than  leave  her  in  that  granite-like  despair, 
"  you  may  yet  have  your  sisters  and  little  brother  restored  to 
you." 

"  How  ?  how  ?  and  when  ?"  she  screamed  with  joy,  and 
started  up,  her  wild  eyes  beaming  with  exultation. 

'•Don't  be  so  wild,"  I  said,  softly,  as  I  took  her  little,  hard 
hand,  and  pressed  it  tenderly. 

"  But,  say,  Ann,  ken  I  iver  git  de  chilen  back  ?  Has 
Masser  said  anything  'bout  it  1  Oh,  it  'pears  like  too  much 
joy  fur  me  to  iver  know  any  more.  Poor  little  Ben,  it 
'pears  like  I  kan't  do  nothin'  but  hear  him  cry.  And  may- 
be dey  is  a  beatin'  of  him  now.  Oh,  Lor'  a  marcy  !  what 
shill  I  do?"  and  she  rocked  her  body  back  and  forward  in  a 
transport  of  grief. 

There  are  some  sorrows  for  which  human  sympathy  is  una- 
vailing. What  to  that  broken  heart  were  words  of  condolence  ? 
Did  she  care  to  know  that  others  felt  for  her  ?  that  another 
heart  wept  for  her  grief  ]  No,  like  Rachel  of  old,  she  would 
not  be  comforted. 


YOUNG    MASTER.  189 

"Oh,  Ann!"  she  added,  "please  leave  me  by  myself.  It 
'pears  like  I  kan't  get  my  breath  when  anybody  is  by  me.  I 
Avants  to  be  by  myself.  Jist  let  me  'lone  for  a  little  while,  then 
I'll  talk  to  yon." 

I  nnderstood  the  feeling,  and  complied  with  her  request. 

The  slave  is  so  distrustful  of  sympathy,  he  is  so  accustomed 
to  deception,  that  he  feels  secure  in  the  indulgence  of  his 
grief  only  when  he  is  alone.  The  petted  white,  who  has  friends 
to  cluster  round  him  in  the  hour  of  affliction,  cannot  understand 
the  loneliness  and  solitude  which  the  slave  covets  as  a  boon. 

For  several  days  young  master  lingered  on,  declining  visibly. 
The  hectic  flush  deepened  upon  his  cheek,  and  the  glitter  of 
his  eye  grew  fearfully  bright,  and  there  was  that  sharp  con- 
traction of  his  features  that  denoted  the  certain  approach  of 
death.  His  cough  became  low  and  even  harder,  and  those 
dreadful  night-sweats  increased.  He  lay  in  a  stupid  state,  half 
insensible  from  the  effects  of  sedatives.  Dr.  Mandy,  who  visited 
him  three  times  a  day,  did  not  conceal  from  Mr.  Peterkin  the 
fact  of  his  son's  near  dissolution. 

"  Save  his  life,  doctor,  and  you  shall  have  all  I  own." 

"  If  my  art  could  do  it,  sir,  I  would,  without  fee,  exert  my- 
self for  his  restoration." 

Yet  for  a  poor  old  negro  his  art  could  do  nothing  unfeed.  Do 
ye  wonder  that  we  are  goaded  on  to  acts  of  desperation,  when 
every  day,  nay,  every  moment,  brings  to  our  eyes'  some  injus- 
tice that  is  done  us — and  all  because  our  faces  are  dark  1 

"  Mislike  us  not  for  our  complexion. 
The  shadow'd  livery  of  the  burnish'd  sun. 
To  whom  we  are  as  neighbors,  and  near  bred  ; 
Bring  us  the  fairest  creature  Northward  born, 
Where  Phoebus'  fire  scarce  thaws  the  icicles, 
And  let  us  make  incision  for  your  love 
To  prove  whose  blood  is  reddest,  his  or  ours." 

During  young  master's  illness  I  had  but  little  communication 
with  Amy.     By  Miss  Jane's  order  she  had  been  brought  into 


190  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

the  house  to  assist  in  the  dining-room.  I  gave  her  all  the  in- 
struction in  my  power.  She  appeared  to  listen  to  me,  and 
learned  well ;  yet  everything  was  done  with  that  vacant,  un- 
meaning manner,  that  showed  she  felt  no  interest  in  what  she 
was  doing.  I  had  never  heard  her  allude  to  "  the  children' 
since  the  conversation  just  recorded.  Indeed,  she  appeared  to 
eschew  all  talk.  At  night  I  had  attempted  to  draw  her  into 
conversation,  but  she  always  silenced  me  by  saying, 

"  I'm  tired,  Ann,  and  wants  to  sleep." 

This  was  singular  in  one  so  young,  who  had  been  reared  in 
such  a  reckless  manner.  I  should  have  been  better  satisfied  if 
she  had  talked  more  freely  of  her  sorrows ;  that  stony,  silent 
agony  that  seemed  frozen  upon  her  face,  terrified  me  more 
than  the  most  volcanic  grief;  that  sorrow  is  deeply-rooted  and 
hopeless,  that  denies  itself  the  relief  of  speech.  Heaven  help 
the  soul  thus  cut  off  from  the  usual  sources  of  comfort.  Ob, 
young  Miss,  spoiled  daughter  of  wealth,  you  whose  earliest 
breath  opened  to  the  splendors  of  home  in  its  most  luxurious 
form  ;  you  who  have  early  and  long  known  the  watchful  bless- 
ing of  maternal  love,  and  whose  soft  cheek  has  flushed  to  the 
praises  of  a  proud  and  happy  father,  whose  lip  has  thrilled 
beneath  the  pressure  of  a  brother's  kiss  ;  you  who  have  slept 
upon  the  sunny  slope  of  life,  have  strayed  'mid  the  flowers,  and 
reposed  beneath  the  myrtles,  and  beside  the  fountains,  where 
fairy  fingers  have  garlanded  flowers  for  your  brow,  oh,  bethink 
you  of  some  poor  little  negro  girl,  whom  you  often  meet  in  your 
daily  walks,  whose  sad  face  and  dejected  air  you  have  often 
condemned  as  sullen,  and  I  ask  you  now,  in  the  name  of  sweet 
humanity,  to  judge  her  kindly.  Look,  with  a  pitying  eye,  upon 
that  face  which  trouble  has  soured  and  abuse  contracted.  Re- 
press the  harsh  word  ;  give  her  kindness  ;  'tis  this  that  she  longs 
for.     Be  you  the  giver  of  the  cup  of  cold  water  in  His  name. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

A  CONVERSATION — HOPE    BLOSSOMS   OUT,    BUT    CHARLESTOWN  IS 
FULL  OP  EXCITABILITY. 

One  evening,  during  young  master's  illness,  when  he  was 
able  to  sit  up  beside  the  fire,  Dr.  Mandy  came  to  see  bim,  and, 
as  I  sat  in  his  room,  sewing  on  some  fancy  work  for  Miss  Jane, 
I  heard  the  conversation  that  passed  between  tbem. 

"  Have  you  coughed  much  ?"  the  doctor  asked. 

"  A  great  deal  last  night." 

"  Do  the  night-sweats  continue  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  are  violent." 

"  Let  me  feel  your  pulse.  Here — it  is  very  quick — face  is 
flushed — high  fever." 

"  Yes,  doctor,  I  am  sinking  fast." 

"  Oh,  keep  up  your  spirits.  I  have  been  thinking  tbat  the 
best  thing  for  you  would  be  to  take  a  trip  to  Havana.  This 
climate  is  too  variable  for  your  complaint." 

Young  master  shook  his  bead  mournfully.  ■* 

"The  change  of  scene,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "would  be  of  ser- 
vice to  you.  A  healthful  excitement  of  the  imagination,  and  a 
different  train  of  thought,  would,  undoubtedly,  benefit  you." 

"  What  in  the  South  could  induce  a  different  train  of 
thought  ?  Oh,  doctor,  the  horrid  system,  that  there  flourishes 
with  such  rank  power,  would  only  deepen  my  train  of  thought, 
and  make  me  more  wretched  than  I  am ;  I  would  not  go  near 
New  Orleans,  or  pass  those  dreadful  plantations,  even  to  secure 
the  precious  boon  of  health." 

"  You  will  not  see  anything  of  the  kind.  You  will  only  see 
life  at  hotels  ;  and  there  the  slaves  are  all  happy  and  well  used. 
Besides,  my  good  boy,  the  negroes  on  the  plantations  are  much 
better  used  than  you  think ;  and  I  assure  you  they  are  very 

[191] 


192  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

happy.  If  you  could  overhear  them  laughing  and  singing  of 
an  evening,  you  would  be  convinced  that  they  are  well  cared 
for." 

"  Ah,  disguise  thee  as  thou  wilt,  yet,  Slavery,  thou  art  horrid 
and  revolting." 

"  You  are  morbid  on  the  subject.'' 

"  No,  only  humane ;  but  have  I  not  seen  enough  to  make  me 
morbid?" 

"  These  are  subjects  upon  which  I  deem  it  best  to  say 
nothing." 

"  That  is  the  invariable  argument  of  self-interest." 

"No,  of  prudence,  Mr.  John  ;  I  bave  no  right  to  quarrel  with 
and  rail  out  against  an  institution  that  has  the  sanction  of  the 
law,  and  which  is  acceptable  to  the  interests  of  my  best  friends 
and  patrons. 

''  Exactly  so  ;  the  whole  matter,  so  vital  to  the  happiness  of 
others,  so  fraught  with  great  humanitarian  interests,  must  be 
quietly  laid  on  the  shelf,  because  it  may  lose  you  or  me  a  few 
hundred  dollars." 

"  Not  precisely  that  either ;  but,  granting,  for  the  sake  of  hy- 
pothesis only,  that  slavery  is  a  wrong,  what  good  would  all  my 
arguments  do  ?  None,  but  rather  an  injury  to  the  very  cause 
they  sought  to  benefit.  You  must  not  exasperate  the  slave- 
holders. Leave  them  to  time  and  their  own  reflections.  I  be- 
lieve many  of  the  Western  States — yes,  Kentucky  herself — 
would  at  this  moment  be  free  from  slavery,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  officious  interference  of  the  North.  The  people  of  the 
West  and  South  are  hot,  fiery  and  impetuous.  They  may  be 
persuaded  and  coaxed  into  a  measure,  but  never  driven.  All 
this  talk  and  gasconade  of  Abolitionists  have  but  the  tighter 
bound  the  negroes."  * 

''  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  thus  express  yourself,  for  you  give 
me  a  more  contemptible  opinion  of  the  Southern  and  Western 
men,  or  rather  the  slave-holding  class,  than  I  had  before-*  And 
so  they  are  but  children,  who  must  be  coaxed,  begged,  and  be- 
sugar-plumed  into  doing  a  simple  act  of  justice.     Have  they 


PRO-SLAVERY.  193 

not  the  manhood  to  come  out  boldly,  and  say  this  thing  is 
wrong,  and  that  they  will  no  longer  countenance  it  in  their 
midst;  that  they  will,  for  the  sake  of  justice  and  sj^mpathy  with 
humanity,  liberate  these  creatures,  whom  they  have  held  in  an 
unjust  and  wicked  bondage  ?  "Were  they  to  act  thus,  then 
might  they  claim  for  themselves  the  title  of  chevaliers." 

"  Yes ;  but  they  take  a  different  view  of  the  subject ;  they 
look  upon  slavery  as  just  and  right — a  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence, and  feel  that  they  are  as  much  entitled  to  their  slaves  as 
another  man  is  to  his  house,  carriage,  or  horse." 
•  "  Oh,  how  they  shut  their  hearts  against  the  voice  of  misery, 
and  close  their  eyes  to  the  rueful  sigh  of  human  grief.  I  never 
heard  a  pro-slavery  man  who  could,  upon  any  reasonable 
ground,  defend  his  position.  The  slavery  argument  is  not  only 
a  wicked,  but  an  absurd  one.  How  wise  men  can  be  deluded 
by  it  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand.  Infatuated  they  must  be, 
else  they  could  not  uphold  a  system  as  tyrannous  as  it  is 
base." 

"  Well,  we  will  say  no  more  upon  this  subject,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, as  Mr.  Peterkin  entered. 

""What's  the  matter?"  the  latter  inquired,  as  he  listlessly 
threw  himself  into  a  chair. 

"Nothing,  only  Mr.  John  is  not  all  right  on  the  'goose,'"  re- 
plied Dr.  Mandy,  with  a  facetious  smile. 

"And  not  likely  to  be,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin ;  "Johnny  has  given 
me  a  great  deal  of  trouble  'bout  this  matter ;  but  I  hope  he  will 
outgrow  it.  'Tis  only  a  foolish  notion.  He  was  'lowed  to 
gad  'bout  too  much  with  them  ar'  devilish  niggers,  an'  so  'bibed 
their  quare  ideas  agin  slavery.  Now,  in  my  'pinion,  my  niggers 
is  a  darned  sight  better  off  than  many  of  them  poor  whites  at 
the  North." 

"  But  are  they  as  free  ?"  asked  young  master. 

"  No,  to  be  sure  they  is  not,"  and  here  Mr.  Peterkin  ejected 
from  his  mouth  an  amount  of  tobacco-juice  that  nearly  extin- 
guished the  fire. 

"  Woe  be  unto  the  man  who  takes  from  a  fellow-being  the 
9 


194  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

priceless  right  of  personal  liberty  !  "  exclaimed  young  master, 
with  his  fine  eyes  fervently  raised. 

"  Yes,  but  everybody  don't  desarve  liberty.  Niggers  ain't  fit 
for  to  govern  'emselves  nohow.  They  has  bin  too  long  'cus- 
tomed to  havin'  masters.  Them  that's  went  to  Libory  has  bin 
of  no  'count  to  'emselves  nor  nobody  else.  I  tell  yer,  niggers 
was  made  to  be  slaves,  and  yer  kan't  change  their  Creator's  de- 
sign. Why,  you  see,  doctor,  a  nigger's  mind  is  never  half  as 
good  as  a  Avhite  man's  ;"  and  Mr.  Peterkin  conceived  this  speech 
to  be  the  very  best  extract  of  lore  and  sapience. 

"  Why  is  not  the  African  mind  equal  to  the  Caucasian  ?"  in- 
quired young  master,  with  that  pointed  naivete  for  which  he 
was  so  remarkable. 

"  Oh,  it  tain't  no  use,  Johnny,  fur  you  to  be  talkin'  that  ar' 
way.  It's  all  fine  enoff  in  newspapers,  but  it  won't  do  to  bring 
it  into  practice,  'specially  out  here  in  the  West." 

"  No,  father,  I  begin  to  fear  that  it  is  of  no  avail  to  talk  com- 
mon sense  and  preach  humanity  in  a  community  like  this." 

"  Don't  talk  any  more  on  this  subject,"  said  the  doctor;  "  I 
am  afraid  it  does  Mr.  John  no  particular  good  to  be  so  painfully 
excited.  I  was  going  to  propose  to  you,  Mr.  Peterkin,  to  send 
him  South,  either  on  a  little  coasting  trip,  or  to  Havana  via  New 
Orleans.  I  think  this  climate  is  too  rigorous  and  uncertain  for 
one  of  his  frail  constitution  to  remain  in  it  during  the  winter." 

"  Well,  doctor,  I  am  perfectly  willin'  fur  him  to  go,  if  I  had 
anybody  to  go  with  him  ;  but  you  see  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to 
trust  him  by  himself.  Now  an  idee  has  jist  struck  me,  which, 
if  you'll  agree  to,  will  'zackly  suit  me.  'Tis  for  you  to  go  'long ; 
then  he'd  have  a  doctor  to  rinder  him  any  sarvice  he  might 
need.  Now  Doct.  if  you'll  go,  I'll  foot  the  bill,  and  pay  you  a 
good  bonus  in  the  bargain." 

"Well,  it  will  be  a  great  professional  sacrifice;  but  I'm  willing 
to  make  it  for  a  friend  like  you,  and  for  a  patient  in  whose  re- 
covery or  improvement  I  feel  so  deeply  interested." 

"  Make  no  sacrifices  for  me,  dear  doctor ;  my  poor  wreck  of 
life  is  not  worth  a  sacrifice  ;  I  can  weather  it  out  a  little  longer 


POWER    OF    MUSIC.  195 

in  this  region.  It  requires  a  stronger  air  than  that  of  the  tropics 
to  restore  strength  to  my  poor  decayed  lungs." 

"  Yes,  hut  you  must  not  despond,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  No,  my  boy,  you  musn't  give  up.  You  are  too  young  to 
die.  You  are  my  only  son,  and  I  can't  spare  you."  Again  Mr. 
Peterkin  turned  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  But  tell  me,  doctor,"  he  added,  "  don't  you  think  he  is 
growin'  stronger  ?" 

"  Why,  yes  I  do  ;  and  if  he  will  consent  to  go  South,  I  shall 
have  strong  hope  of  him." 

"  He  must  consent,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Peterkin,  with  a  decided 
emphasis. 

"  You  know  my  objection,  doctor,  yet  I  cannot  oppose  my 
wish  against  father's  judgment ;  so  I  will  go,  but  'twill  be  with- 
out the  least  expectation  of  ever  again  seeing  home." 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't,  my  boy,"  and  Mr.  Peterkin's  voice  faltered, 
and  his  eyes  were  very  moist. 

"  Idols  of  clay  !"  I  thought,  "  how  frail  ye  are ;  albeit  ye  are 
manufactured  out  of  humanity's  finest  porcelain,  yet  a  rude 
touch,  a  slight  jar,  and  the  beautiful  fabric  is  destroyed  forever!" 

Mr.  Peterkin's  treasure,  his  only  son,  was  wasting  slowly, 
inch  by  inch,  before  his  eyes — dying  with  slow  and  silent  cer- 
tainty. The  virus  was  in  his  blood,  and  no  human  aid  could 
check  its  strides.  The  father  looked  on  in  speechless  dread.  He 
saw  the  insidious  marks  of  the  incurable  malady.  He  read  its 
ravages  upon  the  broad  white  brow  of  his  son,  where  the  pulsing 
veins  lay  like  tightly-drawn  cords ;  and  on  the  hueless  lip,  that 
was  shrivelled  like  an  autumn  leaf;  in  the  dilated  pupil  of  that 
prophet-like  eye ;  in  the  fiery  spot  that  blazed  upon  each  hollow 
cheek ;  and  in  the  short,  disturbed  breathing  that  seemed  to 
come  from  a  brazen  tube ;  in  all  these  he  traced  the  omens  of 
that  stealthy  disease  that  robs  us,  like  a  thief  in  the  night-time, 
of  our  richest  treasures. 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  began  Mr.  Peterkin,  "  you  must  prepare  to 
start  in  the  course  of  a  few  days." 

"  I  am  ready  to  leave  at  any  moment,  father ;  and,  if  we  do 


196  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

not  start  very  soon,  I  am  thinking  yon  will  Lave  to  consign  me 
to  the  earth,  rather  than  send  me  on  a  voyage  •pleasure-hunting." 

A  bright  smile,  though  mournful  as  twilight's  shadows,  flitted 
over  the  pale  face  of  young  master  as  he  said  this. 

"  Why,  Johnny,  you  are  better  this  evening,"  said  Miss  Brad- 
ly,  as  she  entered  the  room,  rushed  up  to  him,  and  began  patting 
him  affectionately  on  either  cheek. 

''  Yes,  I  am  better,  good  Miss  Emily ;  but  still  feeble,  oh  so 
feeble !  My  spirits  are  better,  but  the  restless  fire  that  burns 
eternally  here  will  give  me  no  rest,"  and  he  placed  his  hand 
over  his  breast. 

"Yes,  but  you  must  quench  that  fire." 

"Where  is  the  draught  clear  and  pure  enough  to  quench  a 
flame  so  consuming?" 

"  The  dew  of  divine  grace  can  do  it." 

"  Yes,  but  it  descends  not  upon  my  dried  and  burnt  spirit." 

Mr.  Peterkin  turned  off",  and  affected  to  take  no  note  of  this 
little  colloquy,  whilst  Doctor  Mandy  began  to  chew  furiously. 

The  fact  is,  the  Peterkin  family  had  begun  to  distrust  Miss 
Bradly's  principles  ever  since  the  day  young  master  adminis- 
tered such  a  reproof  to  her  muffled  conscience  ;  and  in  truth,  I 
believe  she  had  half-declared  her  opposition  to  the  slave  system ; 
and  they  began  to  abate  the  fervor  of  their  friendship  for  her. 
The  young  ladies,  indeed,  kept  up  their  friendly  intercourse 
with  her,  though  with  a  modification  of  their  former  warmth. 

1  fancied  that  Miss  Bradly  looked  happier,  now  that  she  had 
cast  off  disguise  and  stood  forth  in  her  true  character.  That 
cloud  of  faltering  distrust  that  once  hung  round  her  like  a  filmy 
web,  had  been  dissipated  and  she  stood  out,  in  full  relief,  with 
the  beautiful  robe  of  truth  draping  and  dignifying  her  nature. 
Woman,  when  once  she  interests  herself  in  the  great  cause  of 
humanity,  goes  to  work  with  an  ability  and  ardor  that  put  to 
shame  the  colder  and  slower  action  of  man.  The  heart  and 
mind  co-work,  and  thus  a  woman,  as  if  by  the  dictate  of  inspira- 
tion, will  achieve  with  a  single  effort  the  mighty  deed,  for  the 
attainment  of  which  men  spend  years  in  idle  planning.    Women 


WHERE    IS    GOD.  197 

have  done  much,  and  may  yet  achieve  more  toward  the  eman- 
cipation and  enfranchisement  of  the  world.  The  historic  pages 
glitter  with  the  noble  acts  of  heroic  womanhood,  and  histories 
yet  unwritten  will,  I  believe,  proclaim  the  good  which  they 
shall  yet  do.  Who  but  the  Maid  of  Orleans  rescued  her  country  ? 
Whose  hand  but  woman's  dealt  the  merited  death-blow  to  one 
of  France's  bloodiest  tyrants  ?  In  all  times,  she  has  been 
most  loyal  to  the  highest  good.  Woman  has  ever  been  brave  ! 
She  was  the  instrument  of  our  redemption,  and  the  early  watcher 
av  the  tomb  of  our  Lord.  To  her  heart  the  (Saviour's  doc- 
trine came  with  a  special  welcome  message.  And  I  now  believe 
that  through  her  agency  will  yet  come  the  political  ransom  of 
the  slaves  !     God  grant  it,  and  speed  on  the  blessed  day  ! 

I  now  looked  upon  Miss  Bradly  with  the  admiring  interest 
with  which  I  used  to  regard  her  ;  and  though  I  had  never  had 
from  her  an  explanation  of  the  change  or  changes  through 
which  she  had  passed  since  that  memorable  conversation  re- 
corded in  the  earlier  pages  of  this  book,  I  felt  assured  from  the 
fact  that  young  master  had  learned  to  love  her,  that  all  was 
right  at  the  core  of  her  heart ;  and  I  was  willing  to  forgive  her 
for  the  timidity  and  vacillation  that  had  caused  her  to  play  the 
dissembler.  The  memorable  example  of  the  loving  but  weak 
Apostle  Peter  should  teach  us  to  look  leniently  upon  all  those 
who  cannot  pass  safely  through  the  ordeal  of  human  contempt, 
without  having  their  principles,  or  at  least  actions,  a  little 
warped.  Of  course  there  are  higher  natures,  from  whose  forti- 
tude the  rack  and  the  stake  can  provoke  nothing  but  smiles  ; 
but  neither  good  St.  Peter  nor  Miss  Bradly  were  of  such  ma- 
terial. 

*'  I  am  going  to  leave  you  very  soon,  Miss  Emily." 

"  And  where  are  you  going,  John  ?" 

"  They  will  send  me  to  the  South.  As  the  poor  slaves  say, 
I'm  going  down  the  river  j"  and  a  sweet  smile  flitted  over  that 
gentle  face. 

"  Who  will  accompany  you  ?" 


198  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

''  Father  wishes  Doctor  Mandy  to  go ;  but  I  fear  it  will  be 
too  great  a  professional  sacrifice." 

"  Oh,  some  one  must  go  with  you.     You  shall  not  go  alone." 

•'  I  do  not  wish  to  go  at  all.  I  shall  see  nothing  in  the  South 
to  please  me.  Those  magnificent  plantations  of  rice,  sugar,  and 
cotton,  those  lordly  palaces,  embowered  in  orange  trees,  those 
queenly  magnolia  groves,  and  all  the  thousand  splendors  that 
cover  the  coast  with  loveliness,  will  but  recall  to  my  mind  the 
melancholy  fact  that  slave-labor  produces  the  whole.  I  shall 
fancy  that  some  poor  heart-broken  negro  man,  or  some  hopeh#s 
mother  or  lonely  wife  watered  those  fields  with  tears.  Oh,  that 
the  dropping  of  those  sad  eyes  had,  like  the  sowing  of  the 
dragon's  teeth,  produced  a  band  of  armed,  bristling  warriors, 
strong  enough  to  conquer  all  the  tyrants  and  liberate  the  cap- 
tives !" 

"  This  can  never  be  accomplished  suddenly.  It  must  be  the 
slow  and  gradual  work  of  years.  Like  all  schemes  of  reforma- 
tion, it  moves  but  by  inches.  Wise  legislators  have  proposed 
means  for  the  final  abolition  of  slavery ;  but,  though  none  have 
been  deemed  practicable,  I  look  still  for  the  advent  of  the  day 
when  the  great  sun  shall  look  goldenly  down  upon  the  emanci- 
pation of  this  dusky  tribe,  and  when  the  word  slave  shall  no- 
where find  expression  upon  the  lips  of  Christian  men." 

"  When  do  you  predict  the  advent  of  that  millennial  day  ?" 

"  I  fear  it  is  far  distant ;  yet  is  it  pleasant  to  think  that  it  will 
come,  no  matter  at  how  remote  an  epoch." 

"  Distant  is  it  only  because  men  are  not  thoroughly  Christian- 
ized. ISTo  man  that  will  willingly  hold  his  brother  in  bondage  is 
a  Christian.  Moreover,  the  day  is  far  off  in  the  future, 
because  of  the  ignorant  pride  of  men.  They  wish  to  send  the 
poor  negro  away  to  the  unknown  land  from  whence  his 
ancestors  were  stolen.  We  virtually  say  to  the  Africans, 
now  you  have  cultivated  and  made  beautiful  our  continent, 
we  have  no  further  use  for  you.  You  have  grown  up,  it 
is  true,  beneath  the  shadow  of  our  trees,  you  were  born  upon 
our  soil,  your  early  associations  are  here.     Your  ignorance  pre- 


REFLECTIONS    UPON    SLAVERY.  199 

eludes  you  from  the  knowledge  of  the  excellence  of  any  other 
land :  yet  for  all  this  we  take  no  care,  it  is  our  business  to  drive 
you  hence.  Cross  the  ocean  you  must.  Find  a  home  in  a 
strange  country ;  lay  your  broad  shoulder  to  the  work,  and 
make  for  yourself  an  interest  there.  What  wonder  is  it,  if 
the  poor,  ignorant  negro  shakes  his  head  mournfully,  and  says : 
"  No,  I  would  rather  stay  here ;  I  am  a  slave,  it  is  true,  but 
then  I  was  born  here,  and  here  I  will  be  buried.  I  am  tightly 
kept,  have  a  master  and  a  mistress,  but  then  I  know  what  this 
is.  Hard  to  endure,  I  grant  it — but  then  it  is  known  to  me. 
I  can  bear  on  a  little  longer,  till  death  sets  me  free.  No,  this 
is  my  native  shore ;  here  let  me  stay."  Their  very  ignorance 
begets  a  kind  of  philosophy  that 

"Makes  them  rather  bear  those  ills  they  have, 
Than  fly  to  others  that  they  know  not  of." 

Now,  why,  I  ask,  have  they  not  as  much  right  to  remain 
here  as  we  have  ?  This  is  their  birthplace  as  well  as  ours. 
We  are,  likewise,  descendants  of  foreigners.  If  we  drive  them 
hence,  what  excuse  have  we  for  it  ?  Our  forefathers  were  not 
the  aborigines  of  this  country.  As  well  might  the  native  red 
men  say  to  us  :  "  Fly,  leave  the  Western  continent,  'tis  our 
home  ;  we  will  not  let  you  stay  here.  You  have  cultivated  it, 
now  we  will  enjoy  it.  Go  and  labor  elsewhere."  What  would 
we  think  of  this  ?  Yet  such  is  our  line  of  conduct  toward 
those  poor  creatures,  who  have  toiled  to  adorn  our  homes. 
Then  again,  we  allow  the  Irish,  Germans,  and  Hungarians,  to 
dwell  among  us.     Why  ban  the  African  ?" 

"  These,  my  young  friend,  are  questions  that  have  puzzled 
the  wisest  brains." 

"  If  it  entered  more  into  the  hearts,  and  disturbed  the  brains 
less,  it  would  be  better  for  them  and  for  the  slaves." 

"  Now,  come,  Miss  Emily,  I'm  tired  of  hearing  you  and  that 
boy  talk  all  that  nonsense.  It's  time  you  were  both  thinking 
of  something  else.     You  are  too  old  to  be  indulgin'  of  him  in 


200         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

that  ar'  stuff.  It  will  never  come  to  any  good.  Them  ar'  nig- 
gers is  allers  gwine  to  be  slaves,  and  white  folks  had  better  be 
tendin'  to  what  consarns  'emselves." 

Such  arguments  as  the  foregoing  were  carried  on  every  day. 
Meanwhile  we,  who  formed  the  subject  of  them,  still  went  on  in 
our  usual  way,  half-fed  and  half-clad,  knocked  and  kicked  like 
dogs. 

Amy  went  about  her  assigned  work,  with  the  same  hard-set 
composure  with  which  she  had  begun.  Talking  little  to  any 
one,  she  tried  to  discharge  her  duties  with  a  docility  and  faith- 
fulness very  remarkable.  Yet  she  sternly  rebuked  all  conver- 
sation. I  made  many  efforts  to  draw  her  out  into  a  free,  sociable 
talk,  and  was  always  told  that  it  was  not  agreeable  to  her. 

I  now  had  no  companionship  among  those  of  my  own  color. 
Aunt  Polly  was  in  the  grave  ;  Amy  wrapped  in  the  silence  of 
her  own  grief;  and  Sally  (the  successor  of  Aunt  Polly  in  the 
culinary  department)  was  a  sulky,  ignorant  woman,  who  did 
not  like  to  be  sociable ;  and  the  men,  with  their  beastly  in- 
stincts, were  objects  of  aversion  to  me.  So  my  days  and  nights 
passed  in  even  deeper  gloom  than  I  had  ever  before  known. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THF  SUPPER ITS    CONSEQUENCES — LOSS  OF   SILVER — A    LONELY 

NIGHT — AMY. 

The  winter  was  now  drawing  to  a  close.  The  heavy,  dreary 
winter,  that  had  hung  like  an  incubus  upon  my  hours,  was  fast, 
drawing  to  an  end.  Many  a  little,  tuneful  bird  came  chirping 
with  the  sunny  days  of  the  waning  February.  Already  the  sun- 
beam had  begun  to  give  us  a  hint  of  the  spring- warmth ;  the 
ice  had  melted  away,  and  the  moistened  roofs  of  the  houses  be- 
gan to  smoke  with  the  drying  breath  of  the  sun,  and  little  green 
pods  were  noticeable  upon  the  dried  branches  of  the  forest 
trees.  It  was  on  such  a  day,  when  the  eye  begins  to  look 
round  upon  Nature,  and  almost  expects  to  solve  the  wondrous 
phenomenon  of  vegetation,  that  I  was  engaged  arranging  Miss 
Jane's  wardrobe.  I  had  just  done  up  some  laces  for  her,  and 
finished  off  a  nice  silk  morning-dress.  She  was  making  exten- 
sive preparations  for  a  visit  to  the  city  of  L.  The  protracted 
rigors  of  the  winter  and  her  own  fancied  ill-health  had  induced 
her  to  postpone  the  trip  until  the  opening  of  spring. 

It  was  decided  that  I  should  accompany  her  as  lady's  maid ; 
and  the  fact  is,  I  was  desirous  of  any  change  from  the  wearying 
monotony  of  my  life. 

Young  master  had  been  absent  during  the  whole  winter. 
Frequent  letters  from  Dr.  Mandy  (who  had  accompanied  him) 
informed  the  family  of  his  slowly-improving  health ;  yet  the 
doctor  stated  in  each  communication  that  he  was  not  strong 
enongh  to  write  a  letter  himself.  This  alarmed  me,  for  I  knew 
that  he  must  be  excessively  weak,  if  he  denied  himself  the 
gratification   of   writing    to  his  family.     Miss  Bradly  came  to 

[201] 


202  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

the  house  but  seldom  ;  and  then  only  to  inquire  the  news  from 
young  master.  Her  principles  upon  the  slavery  question  had 
become  pretty  well  known  in  the  neighborhood ;  so  her  resi- 
dence there  was  not  the  most  pleasant.  Inuendoes,  of  a  most 
insulting  character,  had  been  thrown  out,  highly  prejudicial  to 
her  situation.  Foul  slanders  were  in  busy  circulation  about 
her,  and  she  began  to  be  a  taboed  person.  So  I  was  not  sur- 
prised to  hear  her  tell  Miss  Jane  that  she  thought  of  returning 
to  the  North  early  in  the  spring.  I  had  never  held  any  private 
conversation  with  her  since  that  memorable  one  ;  for  now  that 
her  principles  were  known,  she  was  too  much  marked  for  a 
slave  to  be  allowed  to  speak  with  her  alone.  Her  sorrowful 
face  struck  me  with  pity.  I  knew  her  to  be  one  of  that  time- 
serving kind,  by  whom  the  loss  of  caste  and  social  position  is 
regarded  as  the  most  fell  disaster. 

As  I  turned  the  key  of  Miss  Jane's  wardrobe,  she  came  into 
the  room,  with  an  unusually  excited  manner,  exclaiming, 

"  Ann,  where  is  your  Miss  Tildy  V 

Upon  my  answering  that  I  did  not  know,  she  bade  me  go 
and  seek  her  instantly,  and  say  that  she  wished  to  speak  with 
her.  As  I  left  the  room,  I  observed  Miss  Jane  draw  a  letter 
from  the  folds  of  her  dress.  This  was  hint  enough.  My 
mother-wit  told  me  the  rest. 

Finding  Miss  Tildy  with  a  book,  in  a  quiet  corner  of  the 
parlor,  I  delivered  Miss  Jane's  message,  and  withdrew.  The 
contents  of  Miss  Jane's  letter  soon  became  known  ;  for  it  was, 
to  her,  of  such  an  exciting  nature,  that  it  could  not  be  held  in 
secresy.  The  letter  was  from  Mr.  Sommerville,  and  announced 
that  he  would  pay  her  a  visit  in  the  course  of  a  few  days. 

And,  for  the  next  "  few  days,"  the  whole  house  was  in  a 
perfect  consternation.  All  hands  were  at  work.  Carpets  were 
taken  up,  shaken,  and  put  down  again  with  the  "  clean  side" 
up.  Paint  was  scoured,  windows  were  washed  ;  the  spare  bed- 
room was  re-arranged,  and  adjusted  in  style  ;  the  French  couch 
was  overspread  with  Miss  Tildy's  silk  quilt,  that  had  taken  the 
prize  at  the  Agricultural  Fair;  and  fresh  bouquets  were  col- 


CLOSE    OF    A    VISIT.  203 

lected  from  the  green-house,  and  placed  upon  the  mantel. 
Everything  looked  very  nice  about  the  house,  and  in  the  kitch- 
en all  sorts  of  culinary  preparations  had  gone  on.  Cakes, 
cookies,  and  confections  had  been  made  in  abundance.  As 
Amy  expressed  it,  in  her  quaintly  comical  way,  "  Christmas  is 
comin'  again."  It  was  the  first  and  only  time  since  the  depar- 
ture of  "  the  children,"  that  I  had  heard  her  indulge  in  any  of 
her  old  drollery. 

At  length  the  "  day"  arrived,  and  with  it  came  Mr.  Summer- 
ville.  Whilst  he  remained  with  us,  everything  went  off  in  the 
way  that  Miss  Jane  desired.  There  were  fine  dinners,  with  plenty 
of  wine,  roast  turkey,  curry  powder,  desserts,  &c.  The  silver 
and  best  china  had  been  brought  out,  and  Mr.  Peterkin  be- 
haved himself  as  well  as  he  could.  He  even  consented  to  use 
a  silver  fork,  which,  considering  his  prejudice  against  the  arti- 
cle, was  quite  a  concession  for  him  to  make. 

Time  sped  on  (as  it  always  will  do),  and  brought  the  end  of 
the  week,  and  with  it,  the  end  of  Mr.  Summerville's  visit.  I 
thought,  from  a  certain  softening  of  Miss  Jane's  eye,  and  from 
the  length  of  the  parting  interview,  that  "  matters'''  had  been 
arranged  between  her  and  Mr.  Summerville.  After  the  last 
adieu  had  been  given,  and  Miss  Jane  had  rubbed  her  eyes 
enough  with  her  fine  pocket-handkerchief  (or,  perhaps,  in  this 
case,  it  would  be  well  to  employ  the  suggestion  of  a  modern 
author,  and  say  her  "  lachrymal,")  I  say,  after  all  was  over, 
and  Mr.  Summerville's  interesting  form  was  fairly  lost  in  the 
distance,  Miss  Tildy  proposed  that  they  should  settle  down  to 
their  usual  manner  of  living.  Accordingly,  the  silver  was  all 
rubbed  brightly  by  Amy,  whose  business  it  was,  then  handed 
over  to  Miss  Tildy  to  be  locked  up  in  the  bureau. 

For  a  few  weeks  matters  went  on  with  their  usual  dullness. 
Master  was  still  smoking  his  cob-pipe,  kicking  negroes,  and 
blaspheming ;  and  Miss  Jane  making  up  little  articles  for  the 
approaching  visit  to  the  city.  She  and  Miss  Tildy  sat  a  great 
deal  in  their  own  room,  talking  and  speculating  upon  the  coming 
joys.     Passing  in  and  out,  I  frequently   caught  fragments  of 


204  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

conversation  that  let  me  into  many  of  their  secrets.  Thus  I 
learned  that  Miss  Jane's  chief  object  in  visiting  the  city  was  to 
purchase  a  bridal  trousseau,  that  Mr.  Sommerville  "  had  pro- 
posed," and,  of  course,  been  accepted.  He  lived  in  the  city  ; 
so  it  was  decided  that,  after  the  celebration  of  the  nuptial  rite, 
Miss  Tildy  should  accompany  the  bride  to  her  new  home,  and 
remain  with  her  for  several  weeks. 

Sundry  little  lace  caps  were  manufactured  ;  handkerchiefs 
embroidered ;  dresses  made  and  altered ;  collars  cut,  and  an'im- 
mence  deal  of  "  transfering "  was  done  by  the  sisters  Peter- 
kin. 

We,  of  the  "  colored  population,"  were  stinted  even  more 
than  formerly  ;  for  they  deemed  it  expedient  to  economize,  in 
order  to  be  the  better  able  to  meet  the  pecuniary  exigencies  of 
the  marriage.  Thus  time  wore  along,  heavily  enough  for  the 
slaves;  but  doubtless  delightful  to  the  white  family.  The  en- 
joyment of  pleasure,  like  all  other  prerogatives,  they  consider- 
ed as  exclusively  their  own. 

Time,  in  its  rugged  course,  had  brought  no  change  to  Amy. 
If  her  heart  had  learned  to  bear  its  bereavement  better,  or  had 
grown  more  tender  in  its  anxious  waiting,  we  knew  it  not  from 
her  word  or  manner.  The  same  settled,  rocky  look,  the  same 
abstracted  air,  marked  her  deportment.  Never  once  had  I  heard 
her  laugh,  or  seen  her  weep.  She  still  avoided  conversation, 
and  Avas  assiduous  in  the  discharge  of  her  domestic  duties.  If 
she  did  a  piece  of  work  well,  and  was  praised  for  it,  she  re- 
ceived the  praise  with  the  same  indifferent  air ;  or  if,  as  was 
most  frequently  the  case,  she  was  harshly  chided  and  severely 
punished,  'twas  all  the  same.  No  tone  or  word  could  move 
those  rigid  features. 

One  evening  Miss  Bradly  came  over  to  see  the  young  ladies, 
and  inquire  the  latest  news  from  young  master.  Miss  Jane 
gave  orders  that  the  table  should  be  set  with  great  care,  and 
all  the  silver  displayed.  They  had  long  since  lost  their  olden 
familiarity,  and,  out  of  respect  to  the  present  coldness  that  ex- 
isted between  them,  they  (the  Misses  Peterkin)  desired  to  show 


MR.  peterkin's  apprehensions.  205 

off  "  before  the  discredited  school-mistress."  I  heard  Miss 
Bradly  ask  Mr.  Peterkin  when  lie  heard  from  young  master. 

"  I've  just  got  a  letter  from  Dr.  Mandy.  They  ar'  still  in  New 
Orleans ;  but  expected  to  start  for  home  in  'bout  three  days. 
The  doctor  gives  me  very  little  cause  for  hope;  says  Johnny  is 
mighty  weak,  and  had  a  pretty  tough  cough.  He  says  the 
night-sweats  can't  be  broke  ;  and  the  boy  is  very  weak,  not 
able  to  set  up  an  hour  at  a  time.  This  is  very  discouragin,' 
Miss  Ernify.  Sometimes  it  'pears  like  'twould  kill  me,  too,  my 
heart  is  so  sot  'pon  that  boy ;"  and  here  Mr.  Peterkin  began  to 
smoke  with  great  violence,  a  sure  sign  that  he  was  laboring 
under  intense  excitement. 

"  He  is  a  very  noble  youth,"  said  Miss  Bradly,  with  a  quiver- 
ing voice  and  a  moist  eye  ;  "  I  am  deeply  attached  to  him,  and 
the  thought  of  his  death  is  one  fraught  with  pain  to  me.  I  hope 
Doctor  Mandy  is  deceived  in  the  prognostics  he  deems  so  bad. 
Johnny's  life  is  a  bright  example,  and  one  that  is  needed." 

"  Yes,  you  think  it  will  aid  the  Abolition  cause  ;  but  not  in 
this  region,  I  can  assure  you,"  said  Miss  Tildy,  as  she  tossed 
her  head  knowingly.  I'd  like  to  know  where  Johnny  learned 
all  the  Anti-slavery  cant.  Do  you  know,  Miss  Emily,  that  your 
incendiary  principles  lost  you  caste  in  this  neighborhood,  where 
you  once  stood  as  a  model  ?" 

Miss  Tildy  had  touched  Miss  Bradly  in  her  vulnerable  point. 
"  Caste"  was  a  thing  that  she  valued  above  reputation,  and  reck- 
oned more  desirable  than  honor.  Had  it  not  been  for  a  certain 
goodness  of  heart,  from  which  she  could  not  escape  (though 
she  had  offten  tried)  she  would  have  renounced  her  Anti-slavery 
sentiments  and  never  again  avowed  them  ;  but  young  master's 
words  had  power  to  rescue  her  almost  shipwrecked  principles, 
and  then,  whilst  smarting  under  the  lash  of  his  rebuke,  she  at- 
tempted, like  many  an  astute  politician,  to  "  run  on  both  sides 
of  the  question  ;"  but  this  was  an  equivocal  position  that  the 
"  out  and  out "  Kentuckians  were  not  going  to  allow.  She  had 
to  be,  in  their  distinct  phraseology,  ''  one  thing  or  the  other  ;" 
and,  accordingly,  aided  by  young  master  and  her  sense  of  jus- 


206  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

tice,  she  avowed  herself  "  the  other."  And,  of  course,  with 
this  avowal,  came  the  loss  of  cherished  friends.  In  troops  they 
fell  away  from  her.  Their  averted  looks  and  distant  nods 
nearly  drove  her  mad.  If  young  master  had  been  by  to  en- 
courage and  sustain  her  with  gracious  words,  she  could  have 
better  borne  it ;  but,  single-handed  and  alone,  she  could  not  bat- 
tle against  adversity.  And  now  this  speech  of  Miss  Tildy's 
was  very  untimely.  She  winced  under  it,  yet  dared  not  reply. 
What  a  contemptible  character,  to  the  brave  mind,  seems  one 
lacking  moral  courage ! 

"  I  want  to  see  Johnny  once  again,  and  then  I  shall  leave  for 
the  North,"  said  Miss  Bradly,  in  a  pitiful  tone. 

"  See  Naples  and  die,  eh  ?"  laughed  Miss  Tildy. 

"  Always  and  ever  ready  with  your  fun,"  replied  Miss 
Bradly. 

At  first  her  wiry  turnings,  her  open  and  shameless  sycophan- 
cy, and  now  her  cringing  and  fawning  upon  the  Peterkins, 
caused  me  to  lose  all  respect  for  her.  In  the  hour  of  her 
trouble,  when  deserted  by  those  whom  she  had  loved  as  friends, 
when  her  pecuniary  prospects  were  blighted,  I  felt  deeply  for 
her,  and  even  forgave  the  falsehood  ;  but  now  when  I  saw  her 
shrink  from  the  taunt  and  invective  of  Miss  Tildy,  and  then 
minister  to  her  vanity,  I  felt  that  she  was  too  little  even  for  con- 
tempt. At  tea,  that  evening,  whilst  serving  the  table,  I  was 
surprised  to  observe  Miss  Jane's  face  very  red  with  anger,  and 
her  manner  exceedingly  irascible.  I  began  to  wonder  if  I  had 
done  anything  to  exasperate  her ;  but  could  think  of  no  offence 
of  which  I  had  been  guilty.  I  knew  from  the  way  in  which 
she  conversed  with  all  at  the  table,  that  none  of  them  were  of- 
fenders. I  was  the  more  surprised  at  her  anger,  as  she  had 
been,  for  the  last  week,  in  such  an  excellent  humor,  getting 
herself  ready  for  the  visit  to  the  city.  Oh,  how  I  dreaded  to 
see  Miss  Bradly  leave,  for  then,  I  knew  the  storm  would  break 
in  all  its  fury  ! 

I  was  standing  in  the  kitchen,  alone,  trying  to  think  what 
could  have  offended  Miss  Jane,  when  Amy  came  up  to  me,  say- 
ing, 


amy's  trouble.  207 

"  Oh,  Ann,  two  silver  forks  is  lost,  an'  Miss  Tildy  done  'cuse 
me  of  stealin'  'em,  an'  I  declar  'fore  heaven,  I  gib  ebery  one 
of  'em  to  Miss  Tildy  de  mornin'  Misser  Summerbille  lef,  an' 
now  she  done  told  Miss  Jane  dat  I  told  a  lie,  and  that  I  stole 
'em.  Lor'  knows  what  dey  is  gwine  to  do  'long  wid  me;  but  I 
don't  kere  much,  so  dey  kills  me  soon  and  sets  me  out  my 
misery  at  once." 

"  When  did  they  miss  the  forks  ?" 

"  Wy  to-night,  when  I  went  to  set  de  table,  I  found  dat  two 
of  'em  wasn't  dar  ;  so  I  axed  Miss  Tildy  whar  dey  was,  an' 
she  said  she  didn't  know.  Den  I  axed  Miss  Jane  ;  she  say, 
'  ax  Miss  Tildy.'  Den  when  I  told  Miss  Tildy  dat,  she  got 
mad ;  struck  me  a  lick  right  cross  my  face.  Den  I  told  her 
bout  de  time  Mr.  Summerbille  lef,  when  I  give  'em  to  her- 
She  say,  'you's  a  liar,  an'  hab  stole  'em.'  Den  I  begun  to  de- 
clar I  hadn't,  and  she  call  Miss  Jane,  and  say  to  her  dat  she 
knowed  I  hab  stole  'em,  and  Miss  Jane  got  mad ;  kicked  me, 
pulled  my  har  till  I  screamed ;  den  I  'spose  she  did  'ant  want 
Miss  Bradly  to  hear  me  ;  so  she  stopped,  but  swar  she'd  beat 
me  to  death  if  I  didn't  get  'em  fur  her  right  off.  Now,  Ann, 
I  doesn't  know  whar  dey  is,  if  I  was  to  be  kilt  for  it." 

She  drew  the  back  of  her  hand  across  her  eyes,  and  I  saw 
that  it  was  moist.  I  was  glad  of  this,  for  her  silent  endur- 
ance was  more  horrible  to  look  upon  than  this  physical  soft- 
ness. 

"  Oh,  God  !"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  would  that  young  master  were 
here." 

"  What  fur,  Ann  ?" 

"  He  might  intercede  and  prevent  them  from  using  you  so 
cruelly." 

"  I  doesn't  wish  he  was  liar ;  for  I  lubs  young  Masser,  an'  he 
is  good  ;  if  he  was  to  see^me  a  sufferin'  it  wud  stress  him,  an' 
make  his  complaint  worse  ;  an'  he  couldn't  do  no  good ;  for 
dey  will  beat  me,  no  matter  who  begs.  Ob,  it  does  seem  so 
strange  that  black  people  was  eber  made.  I  is  glad  dat  de 
chillen  is'nt  har  ;  for  de  sight   ob  dem   cryin'   round  de  *  post,' 


208  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

wud  nearly  kill  me.  I  can  bar  anythin'  fur  myself,  but  not  fur 
'em.     Ob,  I  hopes  dey  is  dead." 

And  here  she  heaved  a  dreadful  groan.  This  was  the  first 
time  I  had  heard  her  allude  to  them,  and  I  felt  a  choking  rush 
in  my  throat. 

''■'  Don't  cry,  Ann,  take  kere  ob  yourself.  It  'pears  like  my 
time  has  come.  I  don't  feel  'feard,  an'  dis  is  de  fust  time  I'se 
eber  bin  able  to  speak  'bout  de  chillen.  If  eber  you  sees  'em, 
(I  niver  will),  tell  'em  dat  I  niver  did  forget  'em  ;  dat  night 
an'  day  my  mind  was  sot  on  'em,  an'  please,  Ann,  gib  'em  dis." 

Here  she  took  from  her  neck  a  string  that  held  her  mother's 
gift,  and  the  coin  young  master  had  given  her,  suspended  to  it. 
She  looked  at  it  long  and  wistfully,  then,  slowly  pressing  it  to 
her  lips,  she  said  in  a  low,  plaintive  voice  that  went  to  my  heart, 
"  Poor  Mammy." 

I  then  took  it  from  her,  and  hid  it  in  my  pocket.  A  cold 
horror  stole  over  me.  I  had  not  the  power  to  gainsay  her  ;  for 
an  instinctive  idea  that  something  terrible  was  going  to  occur, 
chained  my  lips. 

"  Ann,  I  thanks  you  for  all  your  kindness  to  me.  I  hopes 
you  may  hab  a  better  time  den  I  has  hab.  I  feel,  Ann,  as  if 
I  niver  should  come  down  from  dat  post  alive. 

"  Trust  in  God,  Amy." 

She  shook  her  head  despairingly. 

"  He  will  save  you." 

"  No,  God  don't  kare  for  black  folks." 

"  What  did  young  master  tell  you  about  that  ?  Did  he  not 
say  God  loved  all  His  creatures  alike  ?" 

*'  Yes,  but  black  folks  aint  God's  critters." 

"  Yes,  they  are,  just  as  much  as  white  people." 

"  No  dey  aint." 

"  Oh,  Amy,  I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand  how  it  is." 

"  You  kant  make  me  belieb  dat  ar'  way,  no  how  you  can  fix 
it.  God  don't  kare  what  a  comes  ob  niggers  ;  an'  I  is  glad  he 
don't,  kase  when  I  dies,  I'll  jist  lay  down  and  rot  like  de 
worms,  and  dere  wont  be  no  white  folks  to  'buse  me." 


amy's  idea  of  a  god.  209 

"  No,  there  will  be  no  white  folks  to  abuse  you  in  heaven ; 
but  God  and  His  angels  will  love  you,  if  you  will  do  well  and 
try  to  get  there." 

''  I  dou't  want  to  go  ther,  for  God  is  one  of  the  white  people, 
and,  in  course,  he'd  beat  de  niggers." 

Ob,  was  not  this  fearful,  fearful  ignorance  ?  Through  the 
solid  rock  of  her  obtusity,  I  could,  with  no  argument  of  mine, 
make  an  aperture  for  a  ray  of  heavenly  light  to  penetrate. 
Do  Christians,  who  send  off  missionaries,  realize  that  heathen- 
dom exists  in  their  very  midst ;  aye,  almost  at  their  own  hearth- 
stone ?  Let  them  enlighten  those  that  dwell  in  the  bonds  of 
night  on  their  own  borders;  then  shall  their  efforts  in  distant 
lands  be  blest.  Numberless  instances,  such  as  the  one  I  have 
recorded,  exist  in  the  slave  States.  The  masters  who  instruct 
their  slaves  in  religion,  could  be  numbered  ;  and  I  will  venture 
to  assert  that,  if  the  census  were  taken  in  the  State  of  Ken- 
tucky, the  number  would  not  exceed  twenty.  Here  and  there 
you  will  find  an  instance  of  a  mistress  who  will,  perhaps,  on  a 
Sunday  evening,  talk  to  a  female  slave  about  the  propriety  of 
behaving  herself;  biit  the  gist  of  the  argument,  the  hinge  upon 
which  it  turns,  is — "  obey  your  master  and  mistress ;"  upon 
this  one  precept  hang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets." 

That  night,  after  my  house  duties  were  discharged,  I  went  to 
the  cabin,  where  I  found  Amy  lying  on  her  face,  weeping  bit- 
terly. I  lifted  her  up,  and  tried  to  console  her ;  but  she  ex- 
claimed, with  more  energy  than  I  had  ever  heard  her, 

"  Ann,  every  ting  seems  so  dark  to  me.  I  kan't  see  past  to- 
morrow. I  has  bin  thinkin'  of  Aunt  Polly  ;  I  keeps  seein'  her, 
no  matter  what  way  I  turns." 

"You  are  frightened,"  I  ventured  to  say. 

"  No,  I  isn't,  but  I  feels  curus." 

"  Let  me  teach  you  to  pray." 

"  Will  it  do  me  any  good  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  put  faith  in  God." 

"  What's  faith  ?" 

"  Believe  that  God  is  strong  and  willing  to  save  you  ;  that  is 
faith." 


210  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Who  is  God  ?     I  never  seed  him." 

"No,  but  He  sees  you." 

"  Whar  is  He  V  and  she  looked  fearfully  around  the  room,  in 
which  the  scanty  fire  threw  a  feeble  glare. 

"  Everywhere.     He  is  everywhere,"  I  answered. 

"  Is  He  in  dis  room  ?'■'  she  asked  in  terror,  and  drew  near  me. 

"  Yes,  He  is  here." 

"  Oh  lor  !     He  may  tell  Masser  on  me. 

This  ignorance  may,  to  the  careless  reader,  seem  laughable ; 
but,  to  me,  it  was  most  horrible,  and  I  could  not  repress  my 
tears.  Here  was  the  force  of  education.  Master  was  to  her  the 
strongest  thing  or  person  in  existence.  Of  course  she  could  not 
understand  a  higher  power  than  that  which  had  governed  her 
life.  There  are  hundreds  as  ignorant ;  but  no  missionaries  come 
to  enlighten  them  ! 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  that  way ;  you  know  God  made  you." 

"  Yes,  but  dat  was  to  please  Masser.  He  made  me  fur  to  be 
a  slave." 

Now,  how  would  the  religious  slave-holder  answer  that  1 

I  strove,  but  with  no  success,  to  make  her  understand  that 
over  her  soul,  her  temporal  master  had  no  control ;  but  her 
ignorance  could  not  see  a  difference  between  the  body  and  soul. 
Whoever  owned  the  former,  she  thought,  was  entitled  to  the 
latter.  Finding  I  could  make  no  impression  upon  her  mind,  I 
lay  down  and  tried  to  sleep ;  but  rest  was  an  alien  to  me.  I 
dreaded  the  breaking  of  the  morn.  Poor  Amy  slept,  and  I  was 
glad  that  she  did.  Her  overtaxed  body  yielded  itself  up  to  the 
most  profound  rest.  In  the  morning,  when  I  saw  her  sleeping 
so  soundly  on  the  pallet,  I  disliked  to  arouse  her.  I  felt,  as  I 
fancied  a  human  jailer  must  feel,  whose  business  it  is  to  awaken 
a  criminal  on  the  morning  of  his  execution ;  yet  I  had  it  to  do, 
for,  if  she  had  been  tardy  at  her  work,  it  would  have  enraged 
her  tyrants  the  more,  and  been  worse  for  her. 

Rubbing  her  eyes,  she  sat  upright  on  the  pallet  and  murmured, 

"  Dis  is  de  day.     I's  to  be  led  to  de  post,  and  maybe  kilt." 

I  dared  not  comfort  her,  and  only  bade  her  to  make  haste  and 
attend  to  her  work. 


CHAPTER    XXIY. 

THE    PUNISHMENT — CRUELTY — ITS    FATAL    CONSEQUENCE — 
DEATH. 

At  breakfast,  Miss  Jane  shook  her  head  at  Amy,  saying, 

"  I'll  settle  accounts  with  you,  presently." 

I  wondered  if  that  tremulous  form,  that  stood  eyeing  her  in 
affright,  did  not  soften  her ;  hut  no,  the  "  shaking  culprit,"  as 
she  styled  Amy,  was  the  very  creature  upon  whom  she  desired 
to  deal  swift  justice. 

Pitiable  was  the  sight  in  the  kitchen,  where  Jake  and  Dan, 
great  stout  fellows,  were  making  their  breakfasts  off  of  scraps 
of  meat,  old  bones  and  corn-bread,  whilst  the  aroma  of  coffee, 
broiled  chicken,  and  egg-cakes  was  wafted  to  them  from  the 
house-table. 

"  I  wish't  I  had  somepin'  more  to  eat,"  said  Dan. 

"  You's  never  satisfy,"  replied  Sally,  the  cook ;  "  you  gits  jist 
as  much  as  de  balance,  yit  you  makes  de  most  complaints." 

"  No  I  doesn't." 

"  Yes,  you  does  ;  don't  he,  Jake  ?" 

"  Why,  to  be  sartain  he  does,"  said  Jake,  who  of  late  had 
agreed  to  live  with  Sally  as  a  wife.  Of  course  no  matrimonial 
rite  was  allowed,  for  Mr.  Peterkin  was  consistent  enough  to  say, 
that,  as  the  law  did  not  recognize  the  validity  of  negro  marriages, 
he  saw  no  use  of  the  tomfoolery  of  a  preacher  in  the  case ;  and 
this  is  all  reasonable  enough. 

"You  allers  takes  Sal's  part,"  said  Dan,  "now  sense  she  has 
got  to  be  your  wife ;  you  and  her  is  allers  colloged  together 
agin'  de  rest  ov  us." 

"  Wal,  haint  I  right  for  to  'tect  my  ole  'oman  ?" 

[2H] 


212         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

"Now,  La,  ha!"  cried  Nace,  as  lie  entered,  "  de  idee  ob  yer 
"tectin'  a  wife  !  I  jist  wisht  Masser  sell  yer  apart,  den  wliar  is 
yer  'tection  ob  one  anoder  ?" 

"  Oh,  dat  am  very  different.  Den  I'd  jist  git  me  anoder  ole 
'oman,  an'  she'd  git  her  anoder  ole  man." 

"  Sure  an'  I  would,"  was  Sally's  reply ;  "  hain't  I  done  had 
five  old  men  already,  an'  den  if  Jake  be  sole,  1'de  git  somebody 
else." 

"White  folks  don't  do  dat  ar'  way,"  interposed  Dan,  as  he 
picked  away  at  a  bone. 

"  In  course  dey  don't.  Why  should  dey  ?"  put  in  Nace. 
"  Ain't  dey  our  Massers,  and  habn't  dey  dar  own  way  in  ebery 
ting  V 

"  I  wisht  I'd  bin  born  white,"  added  Dan. 

"  Ya,  ya,  dat  is  funny  !" 

"  Do  de  free  colored  folks  live  like  de  whites  1"   asked  Sally. 

''Why,  laws,  yes  ;  once  when  I  went  with  Masser  to  L.,'' 
Nace  began,  "  at  de  tavern  whar  we  put  up,  dar  was  a  free 
collored  man  what  waited  on  de  table,  and  anoder  one  what  kipt 
barber-shop  in  de  tavern.  Wal,  dey  was  drest  as  nice  as  white 
men.  Dar  dey  had  dar  standin'  collar,  and  nice  cravat,  and  dar 
broadcloth,  and  dar  white  handkersher ;  and  de  barber,  he  had 
some  wool  growin'  on  his  upper  lip  jist  like  de  quality  men. 
Ya,  ya,  but  I  sed  dis  am  funny ;  so  when  I  'gin  to  talk  jist  as 
dough  dey  was  niggers  same  as  I  is,  dey  straighten  'emselves  up 
and  tell  me  dat  I  was  a  speakin'  to  a  gemman.  Wal,  says  I. 
haint  your  faces  black  as  mine  ?  Niggers  aint  gemmen,  says  I, 
for  I  thought  I'd  take  dar  airs  down  ;  but  den,  dey  spunk  up 
and  say  dey  was  not  niggers,  but  colored  pussons,  and  dey  call 
one  anoder  Mr.  Wal,  I  t'ought  it  was  quare  enoff ;  and  more 
an'  dat,  white  folks  speak  'spectable  to  'em,  jist  same  as  dey 
war  white.  Whole  lot  ob  white  gemmans  come  in  de  barber- 
shop to  be  shaved  ;  and  den  dey'd  pay  de  barber,  and  maybe 
like  as  not,  set  down  and  talk  'long  wid  him." 

There  is  no  telling  how  long  the  garrulous  Nace  would  have 
continued  the  narration  of  what  he  saw  in  L — ,  had  he  not  been 


RENEWED    CRUELTY.  213 

suddenly  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Miss  Tildy,  inquiring 
for  Amy. 

Instantly  all  of  them  assumed  that  cheerful,  smiling,  syco- 
phantic manner,  which  is  well  known  to  all  who  have  ever 
looked  in  at  the  kitchen  of  a  slaveholder.  Amy  stood  out 
from  the  group  to  answer  Miss  Tildy's  summons.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  expression  of  subdued  misery  that  was  limned  upon 
her  face. 

"  Come  in  the  house  and  account  for  the  loss  of  those  forks," 
said  Miss  Tildy,  in  the  most  peremptory  manner. 

Amy  made  no  reply  to  this  ;  but  followed  the  lady  into  the 
house.  There  she  was  court-marshalled,  and  of  course,  found 
guilty  of  a  high  misdemeanor. 

"  Wal,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin,  "we'll  see  if  the  'post'  can't 
draw  from  you  whar  you've  put  'em.     Come  with  me." 

With  a  face  the  picture  of  despair,  she  followed. 

Upon  reaching  the  post,  she  was  fastened  to  it  by  the  wrist 
and  ankle  fetters ;  and  Mr.  Peterkin,  foaming  with  rage,  dipped 
his  cowhide  in  the  strongest  brine  that  could  be  made,  and 
drawing  it  up  with  a  flourish,  let  it  descend  upon  her  uncovered 
back  with  a  lacerating  stroke.  Heavens  !  what  a  shriek  she 
gave  !  Another  blow,  another  and  a  deeper  stripe,  and  cry 
after  cry  came  from  the  hapless  victim ! 

"  Whar  is  the  forks  ?"  thundered  Mr.  Peterkin,  "  tell  me,  or 
I'll  have  the  worth  out  of  yer  cussed  hide." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  Massei',  I  doesn't  know." 

"  You  are  a  liar,"  and  another  and  a  severer  blow. 

"Whar  is  they?" 

"  I  give  'em  to  Miss  Jane,  Masser,  indeed  I  did." 

''  Take  that,  you  liar,"  and  again  he  struck  her,  and  thus  he 
continued  until  he  had  to  stop  from  exhaustion.  Tbere  she 
stood,  partially  naked,  bleeding  at  every  wound,  yet  none  of 
us  dared  go  near  and  offer  her  even  a  glass  of  cold  water. 

"  Has  she  told  where  they  are  1"  asked  Miss  Tildy. 

"  No,  she  says  she  give  'em  to  you." 

"Well,  she  tells  an  infamous  lie  ;  and  I  hope  you  will  beat 


214  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

her  until  pain  forces  her  to  acknowledge  what  she  has  done 
with  them." 

"  Oh,  I'll  git  it  out  of  her  yet,  and  by  blood,  too." 

"  Yes,  father,  Amy  needs  a  good  whipping,"  said  Miss  Jane, 
"  for  she  has  been  sulky  ever  since  we  took  her  in  the  house. 
Two  or  three  times  I've  thought  of  asking  you  to  have  her 
taken  to  the  post." 

"  Yes,  I've  noticed  that  she's  give  herself  a  good  many  ars. 
It  does  me  rale  good  to  take  'em  out  of  her." 

"  Yes,  father,  you  are  a  real  negro-breaker.  They  don't  dare 
behave  badly  where  you  are." 

This,  Mr.  Peterkin  regarded  as  high  praise ;  for,  whenever 
he  related  the  good  qualities  of  a  favorite  friend,  he  invariably 
mentioned  that  he  was  a  ''  tight  master ;"  so  he  smiled  at  his 
daughter's  compliment. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Tildy,  "  whenever  father  approaches,  the 
darkies  should  set  up  the  tune,  '  See  the  conquering  hero 
comes.'  " 

"  Good,  first-rate,  Tildy,"  replied  Miss  Jane. 

"  'Till  is  a  wit." 

"  Yes,  you  are  both  high-larn't  gals,  a-head  of  yer  pappy." 

"  Oh,  father,  please  don't  speak  in  that  way." 

"  It  was  the  fashion  when  I  was  edicated." 

"  Just  listen,"  they  both  exclaimed. 

"  Jake,"  called  out  Mr.  Peterkin,  whose  wrath  was  getting 
excited  by  the  criticisms  of  his  daughters,  "  go  and  bring  Amy 
here." 

In  a  few  moments  Jake  returned,  accompanied  by  Amy. 
The  blood  was  oozing  through  the  body  and  sleeves  of  the 
frock  that  she  had  hastily  thrown  on. 

''  Whar's  the  spoons  ?"  thundered  out  Mr.  Peterkin. 

"  I  give  'em  to  Miss  Tildy." 

"  You  are  a  liar,"  said  Miss  Tildy,  as  she  dashed  up  to  her, 
and  struck  her  a  severe  blow  on  the  temple  with  a  heated  poker. 
Amy  dared  not  parry  the  blow  ;  but,  as  she  received  it,  she  fell 


THE    INTERROGATION.  215 

fainting  to  the  floor.  Mr.  Peterkin  ordered  Jake  to  take  her 
out  of  their  presence. 

She  was  taken  to  the  cabin  and  left  lying  on  the  floor.  "When 
I  went  in  to  see  her,  a  horrid  spectacle  met  my  view !  There 
she  lay  stretched  npon  the  floor,  blood  oozing  from  her  whole 
body.  I  washed  it  off  nicely  and  greased  her  wounds,  as  poor 
Aunt  Polly  had  once  done  for  me ;  but  these  attentions  had  to 
be  rendered  in  a  very  secret  manner.  It  would  have  been  called 
treason,  and  punished  as  such,  if  I  had  been  discovered. 

I  had  scarcely  got  her  cleansed,  and  her  wounds  dressed,  before 
she  was  sent  for  again. 

"  Now,"  said  Miss  Tildy,  "  if  you  will  tell  me  what  you  did 
with  the  forks,  I  will  excuse  you ;  but,  if  you  dare  to  say  you 
don't  know,  I'll  beat  you  to  death  with  this,''  and  she  held  up 
a  bunch  of  briery  switches,  that  she  had  tied  together.  Now 
only  imagine  briars  digging  and  scraping  that  already  lacerated 
flesh,  and  you  will  not  blame  the  equivocation  to  which  the  poor 
wretch  was  driven. 

"  Where  are  they  ?"  asked  Miss  Jane,  and  her  face  was  fright- 
ful as  the  Medusa's. 

"  I  hid  'em  under  a  barrel  out  in  the  back  yard." 

"  Well,  go  and  get  them." 

"  Stay,"  said  Miss  Jane,  "  I'll  go  with  you,  and  see  if  they  are 

there." 

# 

Accordingly  she  went  off  with  her,  but  they  were  not  there. 

"  Now,  where  are  they,  liar  ?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  Miss  Jane,  I  put  'em  here;  but  I  'spect  somebody's 
done  stole  'em." 

"  No,  you  never  put  them  there,"  said  Miss  Tildy.  "  Now 
tell  me  where  they  are,  or  I'll  give  you  this  with  a  vengeance," 
and  she  shook  the  briers. 

"  I  put  'em  in  my  box  in  the  cabin." 

And  thither  they  went  to  look  for  them.  Not  finding  them 
there,  the  tortured  girl  then  named  some  other  place,  but  with 
as  little  success  they  looked  elsewhere. 

"Now,"  said  Miss  Tildy,  "  I  have  done  all  that  the  most  hu- 


216         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

mane  or  just  could  demand  ;  and  I  find  that  nothing  but  a  touch 
of  this  can  get  the  truth  from  you,  so  come  with  me."  She  took 
her  to  the  "  lock-up,"  and  secured  the  door  within.  Such 
screams  as  issued  thence,  I  pray  heaven  '  may  never  hear 
again.  It  seemed  as  if  a  fury's  strength  endowed  Miss  Tildy's 
arm. 

When  she  came  out  she  was  pale  from  fatigue. 

"  I've  beaten  that  girl  till  I've  no  strength  in  me,  and  she  has 
less  life  in  her ;  yet  she  will  not  say  what  she  did  with  the 
forks." 

"  I'll  go  in  and  see  if  I  can't  get  it  out  of  her,"  said  Miss  Jane. 

"  Wait  awhile,  Jane,  maybe  she  will,  after  a  little  reflection, 
agree  to  tell  the  truth  about  it. 

"Never,"  said  Miss  Jane,  "  a  nigger  will  never  tell  the  truth 
till  it  is  beat  out  of  her."  So  saying  she  took  the  key  from  Miss 
Tildy,  and  bade  me  follow  her.  I  had  rather  she  had  told  me 
to  hang  myself. 

When  she  unlocked  the  door,  I  dared  not  look  in.  My  eyes 
were  riveted  to  the  ground  until  I  heard  Miss  Jane  say : 

"  Get  up,  you  hussy." 

There,  lying  on  the  ground,  more  like  a  heap  of  clotted  gore 
than  a  human  being,  I  beheld  the  miserable  Amy. 

"  Why  don't  she  get  up  ?"  inquired  Miss  Jane.  I  did  not  re- 
ply. Taking  the  cowhide,  she  gave  her  a  severe  lick,  and  the 
wretch  cried  out,  "  Oh,  Lord  !" 

"  The  Lord  won't  hear  a  liar,"  said  Miss  Jane. 

"  Oh,  what  will  'come  of  me  ?" 

"  Death,  if  you  don't  confess  what  you  did  with  the  forks." 

"  Oh  God,  hab  mercy  !  Miss  Jane,  please  don't  beat  me  any 
more.  My  poor  back  is  so  sore.  It  aches  and  smarts  dreadful," 
and  she  lifted  up  her  face,  which  was  one  mass  of  raw  flesh  ;  and 
wiping  or  trying  to  wipe  the  blood  away  from  her  eyes  with  a 
piece  of  her  sleeve  that  had  been  cut  from  her  body,  she  be- 
sought Miss  Jane  to  have  mercy  on  her ;  but  the  spirit  of  her 
father  was  too  strongly  inherited  for  Jane  Peterkin  to  know 
aught  of  human  pity. 


THE    BLOW.  217 

"  Where  are  the  forks  ?" 

"  Oh,  law  !  oh,  law  !"  Amy  cried  out,  ''  I  swar  I  doesn't  know 
anything  'bout  'em." 

Such  blows  as  followed  I  have  not  the  heart  to  describe  ;  for 
they  descended  upon  flesh  already  horribly  mangled. 

The  poor  girl  looked  up  to  me,  crying  out : 

"  Oh,  Ann,  beg  for  me." 

"Miss  Jane,"  I  ventured  to  say;  but  the  tigress  turned  and 
struck  me  such  a  blow  across  the  face,  that  I  was  blinded  for 
full  five  minutes. 

"  There,  take  that !  you  impudent  hussy.  Do  you  dare  to 
ask  me  not  to  punish  a  thief?" 

I  made  no  reply,  but  withdrew  from  her  presence  to  cleanse 
my  face  from  the  blood  that  was  flowing  from  the  wound. 

As  I  bathed  my  face  and  bound  it  up,  I  wondered  if  acts  such 
as  these  had  ever  been  reported  to  those  clergymen,  who  so 
stoutly  maintain  that  slavery  is  just,  right,  and  almost  available 
unto  salvation.  I  cannot  think  that  they  do  understand  it  in 
all  its  direful  wrongs.  They  look  upon  the  institution,  doubt- 
less, as  one  of  domestic  servitude,  where  a  strong  attachment 
exists  between  the  slave  and  his  owner ;  but,  alas !  all  that  is 
generally  fabulous,  worse  than  fictitious.  I  can  fearlessly  as- 
sert that  I  never  knew  a  single  case,  where  this  sort  of  feeling 
was  cherished.  The  very  nature  of  slavery  precludes  the  exis- 
tence of  such  a  feeling.  Read  the  legal  definition  of  it  as  con- 
tained in  the  statute  books  of  Kentucky  and  Virginia,  and  how, 
I  ask  you,  can  there  be,  on  the  slave's  part,  a  love  for  his  owner? 
Oh,  no,  that  is  the  strangest  resort,  the  fag-end  of  argument; 
that  most  transparent  fiction.  Love,  indeed  !  The  slave-master 
love  his  slave  !  Did  Cain  love  Abel  ?  Did  Herod  love  those 
innocents,  whom,  by  a  bloody  edict,  he  consigned  to  death  ? 
In  the  same  category  of  lovers  will  we  place  the  slave-owner. 

When  Miss  Jane  had  beaten  Amy  until  she  was  satisfied,  she 
came,  with  a  face  blazing,  like  Mars,  from  the  "lock-up." 

"  Well,  she  confesses  now,  that  she  put  the  forks  under  the 
corner  of  a  log,  near  the  poultry  coop." 
10 


218  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Its  only  another  one  of  her  lies,"  replied  Miss  Tildy. 

"  Well,  if  it  is,  I'll  beat  her  until  she  tells  the  truth,  or  I'll 
kill  her." 

So  saying,  she  started  off  to  examine  the  spot.  I  felt  that 
this  was  but  another  subterfuge,  devised  by  the  poor  wretch  to 
gain  a  few  moments'  respite. 

The  examination  proved,  as  I  had  anticipated,  a  failure. 

"  What's  to  be  done  ?"  inquired  Miss  Tildy. 

"Leave  her  a  few  moments  longer  to  herself,  and  then  if  the 
truth  is  not  obtained  from  her,  kill  her."  These  words  came 
hissing  though  her  clenched  teeth. 

"  It  won't  do  to  kill  her,"  said  Miss  Tildy. 

''  I  don't  care  much  if  I  do." 

"  We  would  be  tried  for  murder." 

"  Who  would  be  our  accusers  1  Who  the  witnesses  1  You 
forget  that  Jones  is  not  here  to  testify." 

"  Ah,  and  so  we  are  safe." 

"  Oh,  I  never  premeditate  anything  without  counting  the 
cost." 

"  But  then  the  loss  of  property  !" 

"  I'd  rather  gratify  my  revenge  than  have  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, which  would  be  her  highest  market  value." 

Tell  me,  honest  reader,  was  not  she,  at  heart,  a  murderess? 
Did  she  not  plan  and  premeditate  the  deed  ?  Who  were  her 
accusers?  That  God  whose  first  law  she  had  outraged;  that 
same  God  who  asked  Cain  for  his  slain  brother. 

"  Now,"  said  Miss  Jane,  after  she  had  given  the  poor  crea- 
ture only  a  few  moments  relief,  "  now  let  me  go  and  see  what 
that  wretch  has  to  say  about  the  forks." 

"  More  lies,"  added  Miss  Tildy. 

"  Then  her  fate  is  sealed,"  said  the  human  hyena. 

Turning  to  me,  she  added,  in  the  most  authoritative  manner, 

"  Come  with  me,  and  mind  that  you  obey  me  ;  none  of  your 
impertinent  tears,  or  I'll  give  you  this." 

And  she  struck  me  a  lick  across  the  shoulders.  I  can  assure 
you  I  felt  but  little  inclination  to  do  anything  whereby  such  a 


SCENE    IN    THE    "  LOCK-UP."  219 

penalty  might  be  incurred.  Taking  the  key  of  the  '4  lock  up" 
from  her  pocket,  she  ordered  me  to  open  the  door.  With  a 
trembling  hand  I  obeyed.  Slowly  the  old,  rusty-hinged  door 
swung  open,  and  oh,  heavens  !  what  a  sigbt  it  revealed  !  There, 
in  the  centre  of  the  dismal  room,  suspended  from  a  spoke,  about 
three  feet  from  the  ground,  was  the  body  of  Amy  !  Driven  by 
desperation,  goaded  to  frenzy,  she  had  actually  hung  herself! 
Oh,  God  !  that  fearful  sight  is  burnt  in  on  my  brain,  with  a 
power  that  no  wave  of  Lethe  can  ever  wash  out !  There, 
covered  with  clotted  blood,  bruised  and  mangled,  hung  the 
wretched  girl!  There,  a  bleeding,  broken  monument  of  the 
white  man's  and  white  woman's  cruelty !  God  of  my  sires  !  is 
there  for  us  no  redress  %  And  Miss  Jane — what  did  she  do  ? 
Why,  she  screamed,  and  almost  swooned  with  fright !  Ay, 
too  late  it  was  to  rend  the  welkin  with  her  cries  of  distress. 
She  had  done  the  deed  !  Upon  her  head  rested  the  sin  of  that 
freshly -shed  blood  !  She  was  the  real  murderess.  Oh,  fright- 
ful shall  be  her  nights  !  Peopled  with  racks,  execution-blocks, 
and  ghastly  gallows-poles,  shall  be  her  dreams  !  At  the  lone 
hour  of  midnight,  a  wan  and  bloody  corse  shall  glide  around 
her  bed-side,  and  shriek  into  her  trembling  ear  the  horrid  word 
11  murderess  !"  Let  me  still  remain  in  bondage,  call  me  still  by 
the  ignoble  title  of  slave,  but  leave  me  the  unbought  and  price- 
less inheritance  of  a  stainless  conscience.  1  am  free  of  murder 
before  God  and  man.  Still  riot  in  your  wealth  ;  still  batten  on 
inhumanity,  women  of  the  white  complexion,  but  of  the  black 
hearts  !  I  envy  you  not.  Still  let  me  rejoice  in  a  darker  face,  but 
a  snowy,  self-approving  conscience. 

Miss  Jane's  screams  brought  Mr.  Peterkin,  Miss  Tildy  and 
the  servants  to  her  side.  There,  in  front  of  the  open  door  of 
the  lock-up,  they  stood,  gazing  upon  that  revolting  spectacle  ! 
No  word  was  spoken.  Each  regarded  the  others  in  awe.  At 
length,  Mr.  Peterkin,  whose  heartlessness  was  equal  to  any 
emergency,  spoke  to  Jake  : 

"  Cut  down  that  body,  and  bury  it  instantly." 

With  this,  they  all  turned  away  from  the  tragical  spot ;  but 


220  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

I,  though  physically  weak  of  nerve,  still  remained.  That  poor, 
bereaved  girl  had  been  an  object  of  interest  to  me ;  and  I  could 
not  now  leave  her  distorted  and  lifeless  body.  Cold-hearted 
ones  were  around  her ;  no  friendly  eye  looked  upon  her  mang- 
led corse,  and  I  shuddered  when  I  saw  Jake  and  Dan  rudely 
handle  the  body  upon  which  death  had  set  its  sacred  seal. 

"  One  more  unfortunate, 
Weary  of  breath ; 
Eashly  importunate, 
Gone  to  her  death. 

***** 
Swift  to  be  hurled, 

Anywhere,  anywhere, 
Out  of  the  world." 

This  I  felt  had  been  her  history  !  This  should  have  been 
her  epitaph  ;  but,  alas  for  her,  there  would  be  reared  no  record- 
ing stone.  All  that  she  had  achieved  in  life  was  the  few  inches 
of  ground  wherein  they  laid  her,  and  the  shovel  full  of  dirt  with 
which  they  covered  her.  Poor  thing!  I*was  not  allowed  to 
dress  the  body  for  the  grave.  Hurriedly  they  dug  a  hole  and 
tossed  her  in.  I  was  the  only  one  who  consecrated  the  obse- 
quies with  funeral  tears.  A  coarse  joy  and  ribald  jests  rang 
from  the  lips  of  the  grave-diggers  ;  but  I  was  there  to  weep 
and  water  the  spot  with  tributary  tears. 

"  Perishing  gloomily, 
Spurred  by  contumely, 
Cold  inhumanity. 
Burning  insanity, 

Into  her  rest, 
Cross  her  hands  humbly, 
As  if  praying  dumbly, 
Over  her  breast." 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

CONVERSATION  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  SON — THE  DISCOVERY  ;  ITS 
CONSEQUENCES — DEATH  OF  THE  YOUNG  AND  BEAUTIFUL. 

Very  lonely  to  me  were  the  nights  that  succeeded  Amy's 
death.  I  spent  them  alone  in  the  cabin.  A  strange  kind  of 
superstition  took  possession  of  me  !  The  room  was  peopled  with 
unearthly  guests.  I  buried  my  face  in  the  bed-covering,  as  if 
that  could  protect  me  or  exclude  supernatural  visitors.  For  two 
weeks  I  scarcely  slept  at  all ;  and  my  constitution  had  begun 
to  sink  under  the  over-taxation.  This  was  all  the  worse,  as 
Amy's  death  entailed  upon  me  a  double  portion  of  work. 

"What  !"  said  Mr.  Peterkin  to  me,  one  day,  "are  you  agoin 
to  die,  too,  Ann  ?  Any  time  you  gits  in  the  notion,  jist  let  me 
know,  and  I'll  give  you  rope  enough  to  do  it." 

In  this  taunting  way  he  frequently  alluded  to  that  fatal 
tragedy  which  should  have  bowed  his  head  with  shame  and 
remorse. 

Young  master  had  returned,  but  not  at  all  benefited  by  his 
trip.  A  deep  carnation  was  burnt  into  his  shrivelled  cheek,  and 
he  walked  with  a  feeble,  tottering  step.  The  least  physical 
exertion  would  bring  on  a  violent  paroxysm  of  coughing.  The 
unnatural  glitter  of  his  eye,  with  its  purple  surroundings,  gave 
me  great  uneasiness  ;  but  he  was  the  same  gentle,  kind-spoken 
young  master  that  he  had  ever  been.  His  glossy,  golden  hair 
had  a  dead,  dry  appearance  ;  whilst  his  chest  was  fearfully 
sunken  ;  yet  his  father  refused  to  believe  that  all  these  marks 
were  the  heralds  of  the  great  enemy's  approach. 

"  The  spring  will  cure  you,  my  boy." 

"  No,  father,  the  spring  is  coming  fast ;  but  long  before  its 


222  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

flowers  begin  to  scent  the  vernal  gales,  I  shall  have  passed 
through  the  narrow  gateway  of  the  tomb." 

"  No,  it  shall  not  be.     All  my  money  shall  go  to  save  you." 

'*  I  am  purchased,  father,  with  a  richer  price  than  gold  ;  the 
inestimable  blood  of  the  Lamb  has  long  since  paid  my  ransom ; 
I  go  to  my  father  in  heaven.'' 

"  Oh,  my  son  !  you  want  to  go  ;  you  want  to  leave  me.  You 
do  not  love  your  father." 

''  Yes,  I  do  love  you,  father,  very  dearly  ;  and  I  would  that 
you  were  going  with  me  to  that  lovely  land." 

"  I  shill  never  go  thar." 

"  'Tis  that  fear  that  is  killing  me,  father." 

"  "What  could  I,  now,  do  to  be  saved  V 

"  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  be  baptized." 

"  Is  that  all  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  all ;  but  it  embraces  a  good  deal,  dear  father ; 
a  good  deal  more  than  most  persons  deserve.  In  order  to  a 
perfect  belief  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  you  must  act  consistently  with 
that  belief.  You  must  deal  justly.  Abundantly  give  to  the 
poor,  and,  above  all,  you  must  love  mercy,  and  do  mercifully  to 
all,  Now  I  approach  the  great  subject  upon  which  I  fear  you 
will  stumble.  You  must,"  and  he  pronounced  the  words  very 
slowly,  "  liberate  your  slaves."  There  was  a  fair  gleam  from 
his  eyes  when  he  said  this. 

Mr.  Peterkin  turned  uneasily  in  his  chair.  He  did  not  wish 
to  encourage  a  conversation  upon  this  subject. 

One  evening,  when  it  had  been  raining  for  two  or  three  days, 
and  the  damp  condition  of  the  atmosphere  had  greatly  increased 
young  master's  complaint,  he  called  me  to  his  bedside. 

"Ann,"  he  said,  in  that  deep,  sepulchral  tone,  "  I  wish  to  ask 
you  a  question,  and  I  urge  you  not  to  deceive  me.  Remember 
I  am  dying,  and  it  will  be  a  great  crime  to  tell  me  a  falsehood." 

I  assured  him  that  I  would  answer  him  with  a  faithful  regard 
to  truth. 

"  Then  tell  me  what  occasioned  Amy's  death  ?  Did  she 
come  to  it  by  violence  ?" 


THE    INTERROGATORY.  223 

I  shall  never  forget  the  deep,  penetrating  giance  that  he  fixed 
upon  me.  It  was  an  inquiry  that  went  to  my  soul.  I  could  not 
have  answered  him  falsely. 

Calmly,  quietly,  and  without  exaggeration,  1  told  him  all  the 
circumstances  of  her  death. 

''  Murder  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  murder,  foul  and  most,  un- 
natural !" 

I  saw  him  wipe  the  tears  from  his  hollow  eyes,  and  that, 
sunken  chest  heaved  with  vivid  emotion. 

Mr.  Peterkin  came  in,  and  was  much  surprised  to  find  young 
master  so  excited. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  hoy  ?" 

"  The  same  old  trouble,  father,  these  unfortunate  negroes." 

"  Hang  'em  ;  let  them  go  to  the  d — 1,  at  once.  They  are 
not  worth  all  this  consarn  on  your  part." 

"  Father,  they  possess  immortal  souls,  and  are  a  part  of 
Christ's  purchase." 

''Oh,  that  kind  of  talk  does  very  well  for  preachers  and 
church  members." 

"It  should  do  for  all  humanity." 

"I  doesn't  know  what  pity  means  whar  a  nigger  is  consarned." 

"  And  'tis  this  feeling  in  you  that  has  cost  me  my  life." 

"  Confound  thar  black  hides.  Every  one  of  'em  that  ever 
growed  in  Afriky  isn't  worth  that  price." 

"  Their  souls  are  as  precious  in  God's  eyes  as  ours,  and  the 
laws  of  man  should  recognize  their  lives  as  valuable." 

"  Oh,  now,  my  boy  !  don't  talk  any  more  'bout  it.  It  only 
'stresses  you  for  nothing." 

"No,  it  distresses  me  for  a  great  deal.  For  the  value  of 
Christ-piirchased  souls." 

Mr.  Peterkin  concluded  the  argument  as  he  usually  did,  when 
it  reached  a  knotty  point,  by  leaving.  All  that  evening  I  noticed 
that  young  master  was  unusually  restless  and  feverish.  His 
mournful  eyes  would  follow  me  withersoever  I  moved  about 
the  room.  From  the  constant  and  earnest  movement  of  his  lips, 
I  knew  that  he  was  engaged  in  prayer. 


224  AUTOBIOGJRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"When  Miss  Bradly  came  in  and  looked  at  Mm,  I  thought, 
from  the  frightened  expression  of  her  face,  that  §he  detected 
some  alarming  symptoms.  This  apprehension  was  confirmed  by 
the  manner  of  Dr.  Mandy.  All  the  rest  of  the  evening  I  wan- 
dered near  Miss  Bradly  and  the  doctor,  trying  to  catch,  from 
their  conversation,  what  they  thought  of  young  master's  con- 
dition ;  but  they  were  very  guarded  in  what  they  said,  well 
knowing  how  acutely  sensitive  Mr.  Peterkin  was  on  the  subject- 
Miss  Jane  and  Miss  Tildy  did  not  appear  in  the  least  anxious 
or  uneasy  about  him.  They  sewed  away  upon  their  silks  and 
laces,  never  once  thinking  that  the  angel  of  death  was  hovering 
over  their  household  and  about  to  snatch  from  their  embrace 
one  of  their  most  cherished  idols  Verily,  oh,  Death,  thou  art 
like  a  thief  in  the  night ;  with  thy  still,  feline  tread,  thou  enter- 
est  our  chambers  and  stealest  our  very  breath  away  without 
one  admonition  of  thy  coming  ! 

But  not  so  came  he  to  young  master.  As  a  small-voiced  angel, 
with  blessings  concealed  beneath  his  shadowy  wing,  he  came, 
the  herald  of  better  days  to  him  !  As  a  well-loved  bride- 
groom to  a  waiting  bride,  was  the  angel  of  the  tombs  to  that 
expectant  spirit !  'Twas  painful,  yet  pleasant,  to  watch  with 
what  patient  courage  he  endured  bodily  pain.  Often,  unnoticed 
by  him,  did  I  watch,  with  a  terrible  fascination,  the  heroic  strug- 
gle with  which  he  wrestled  with  suffering  and  disease.  Sad 
and  piteous  were  the  shades  and  inflections  of  severe  agony  that 
passed  over  his  noble  face  !  I  recall  now  with  sorrow,  the 
memory  of  that  time  !  How  well,  in  fancy,  can  I  see  him,  as 
he  lay  upon  that  downy  bed,  with  his  beautiful  gold  hair 
thrown  far  back  from  his  sunken  temples,  his  blue,  upturned 
eyes,  fringed  by  their  lashes  of  fretted  gold,  and  those  pale,  thin 
hands  that  toyed  so  fitfully  Avith  the  drapery  of  the  couch,  and 
the  restless,  loving  look  which  he  so  frequently  cast  upon  each 
of  the  dear  ones  who  drew  around  him.  It  must  be  that  the 
"  sun-set  of  life"  gives  us  a  keener,  quicker  sense,  else  why 
do  we  love  the  more  fondly  as  the  curtain  of  eternity  begins  to 
descend  upon  us  ?     Surely,  there  must   be  a  deeper,  undevel- 


THE    DISCOVERY.  225 

oped  sense  lying  beneatli  the  surface  of  general  feeling,  which 
only  the  tightening  of  life's  cords  can  reveal  !  He  grew 
gentler,  if  possible,  as  his  death  approached.  Very  heavenly 
seemed  he  in  those  last,  most  trying  moments  !  All  that  had 
ever  been  earthly  of  him,  began  to  recede ;  the  fleshly  taints 
(if  there  were  any)  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  the  glorious 
spiritual  predominated  !  Angel  more  than  mortal,  seemed  he. 
The  lessons  which  his  life  taught  me  have  sunk  deep  in  my  na- 
ture ;  and  I  can  well  say,  "  it  was  good  for  him  to  have  been  here." 

It  was  a  few  weeks  after  the  death  of  Amy,  when  Miss 
Tildy  was  overlooking  the  bureau  that  contained  the  silver 
and  glass  ware,  she  gave  a  sudden  exclamation,  that,  without 
knowing  why,  startled  me  very  strangely.  A  thrill  passed 
over  my  frame,  an  icy  contraction  of  the  nerves,  and  I  knew 
that  something  awful  was  about  to  be  revealed. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  asked  Miss  Jane. 

Still  she  made  no  reply,  but  buried  her  face  in  her  hands, 
and  remained  thus  for  several  minutes  ;  when  she  did  look  up, 
I  saw  tbat  something  terrible  was  working  in  her  breast. 
"  Culprit,"  was  written  all  over  her  face.  It  was  visible  in  the 
downcast  terror  of  her  eye,  and  in  the  blanched  contraction  of 
the  lips,  and  quivered  in  the  dilating  nostril,  and  was  stamped 
upon  the  whitening  brow  ! 

"  What  ails  you,  Tildy  V  again  inquired  her  sister. 

"  Why,  look  here  /"  and  she  held  up,  to  my  terror,  the  two 
missing  forks  ! 

Oh,  heavens !  and  for  her  own  carelessness  and  mistake  had 
Amy  been  sacrificed  ?  I  make  no  comment.  I  merely  state 
the  case,  and  leave  others  to  draw  their  own  conclusions.  Yet, 
this  much  I  will  add,  that  there  were  no  Caucasian  witnesses 
to  the  bloody  deed,  therefore  no  legal  cognizance  could  be 
taken  of  it  !  Most  noble  and  righteous  American  laws  !  Who 
that  lives  beneath  your  shelter,  would  dare  to  say  they  are  not 
wise  and  sacred  as  the  laws  of  the  Decalogue  ?  Thrice  a  day 
should  their  authors  go  up  into  the  Temple,  and  thank  our 
Lord  that  they  are  not  like  publicans  and  sinners. 
10* 


226        AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

One  evening — oh !  I  shall  long  remember  it,  as  one  full  of 
sacredness,  full  of  sorrow,  and  yet  tinged  with  a  hue  of  heaven ! 
It  was  in  the  deep,  delicious  beauty  of  the  flowering  month  of 
May.  The  twilight  was  unusually  red  and  refulgent.  The  even- 
ing star  shone  like  the  full  eye  of  love  upon  the  dreamy  earth  ! 
The  flowers,  each  with  a  dew-pearl  glittering  on  its  petals,  lay 
lulled  by  the  calm  of  the  hour.  Young  master,  fair  saint,  lay 
on  his  bed  near  the  open  window,  through  which  the  scented 
gales  stole  sweetly,  and  fanned  his  wasted  cheek  !  Thick  and 
hard  came  his  breath,  and  we,  who  stood  around  him,  could  al- 
most see  the  presence  of  the  "  monster  grim,"  whose  skeleton 
arms  were  fast  locking  him  about  ! 

Flitting  round  the  bed,  like  a  guardian  spirit,  was  Miss  Brad- 
ly,  whilst  her  tearful  eye  never  wandered  for  an  instant  from 
that  face  now  growing  rigid  with  the  kiss  of  death !  Miss 
Jane  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bed  wiping  the  cold  damps  from 
his  brow,  and  Miss  Tildy  was  striving  to  impart  some  of  her 
animal  warmth  to  his  icy  feet.  Mr.  Peterkin  sat  with  one  of 
those  thin  hands  grasped  within  his  own,  as  if  disputing  and 
defying  the  advance  of  that  enemy  whom  no  man  is  strong 
enough  to  baffle. 

Slowly  the  invalid  turned  upon  his  couch,  and,  looking  out 
upon  the  setting  sun,  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  as  he  again  turned  his  face  toward  Mr. 
Peterkin,  who  still  clasped  his  hand,  "  do  you  not  know  from 
my  failing  pulse,  that  my  life  is  almost  spent  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  it  is  too,  too  hard  to  give  you  up." 

*'  Yet  you  must  nerve  yourself  for  it. 

"  I  have  no  nerve  to  meet  this  trouble." 

"  Go  to  God,  He  will  give  you  ease." 

"  I  want  Him  to  give  me  you." 

Me  He  lent  you  for  a  little  while.  Now  He  demands  me  at 
your  hands,  and  His  requisition  you  must  obey." 

"  Oh,  I  won't  give  up ;  maybe  you'll  yet  be  spared  to  me." 

"  No,  God's  decree  it  is,  that  I  should  go." 

"  It  cannot,  shall  not  be." 


THE     PROMISE.  227 

"  Father,  father,  you  do  but  blaspheme." 

"  I  will  do  anything  rather  than  see  you  die." 

"  I  am  willing  to  die.  I  have  only  one  request  to  make  of 
you.  Will  you  grant  it  ?  If  you  refuse  me,  I  shall  die  wretched 
and  unhappy." 

"  I  will  promise  you  anything." 

"  But  will  you  keep  your  promise  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  boy." 

"  Do  you  promise  most  faithfully  ?" 

"  I  do." 

"  Then  promise  me  that  you  will  instantly  manumit  your 
slaves." 

Mr.  Peterkin  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  Father,  I  shall  not  die  happy,  if  you  refuse  me." 

"  Then  I  promise  faithfully  to  do  it." 

A  glad  smile  broke  over  the  sufferer's  face,  like  a  sunbeam 
over  a  snow-cloud. 

"  Now,  at  least  I  can  die  contentedly  !  God  will  bless  your 
effort,  and  a  great  weight  has  been  removed  from  my  oppressed 
heart." 

Dr.  Mandy  now  entered  the  room ;  and,  taking  young  master's 
hand  within  his  own,  began  to  count  the  pulsations.  A  very 
ominous  change  passed  over  his  face. 

"Oh,  doctor,"  cried  the  patient,  "I  read  from  your  counte- 
nance the  thoughts  that  agitate  your  mind ;  but  do  not  fear  to 
make  the  disclosure  to  my  friends  even  here.  It  will  do  me  no 
harm.  I  know  that  my  hours  are  numbered ;  but  I  am  willing, 
nay,  anxious  to  go.  Life  has  been  one  round  of  pain,  and  now, 
as  I  am  about  to  leave  the  world,  I  take  with  me  a  blessed  as- 
surance that  I  have  not  lived  in  vain.  Doctor,  I  call  upon  you, 
and  all  the  dear  ones  here  present,  to  witness  the  fact  that  my 
father  has  most  solemnly  promised  me  to  liberate  each  of  his 
slaves  and  never  again  become  the  holder  of  such  property  ? 
Father,  do  you  not  promise  before  these  witnesses  1" 

"  I  do,  my  child,  I  do,"  said  the  weeping  father. 

"Sisters,"  continued  young  master,  "  will  you  promise  to  urge 


228  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

or  offer  no  objection  to  the  furtherance  of  this  sacred  wish  of 
your  dying  brother  ?" 

"I  do,"  "I  do,"  tbey  simultaneously  exclaimed. 

"  And  neither  of  you  will  ever  become  the  owner  of  slaves  ?" 

"  Never,"  "  never,"  was  the  stifled  reply. 

''  Come,  now,  Death,  for  I  am  ready  for  thee  !" 

"  You  have  exerted  yourself  too  much  already,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, ''  now  pray  take  this  cordial  and  try  to  rest ;  you  have  over- 
taxed your  power.     Your  strength  is  waning  fast." 

"  No,  doctor,  I  cannot  be  silent ;  whilst  I've  the  strength, 
pray  let  me  talk.  I  wish  this  death-bed  to  be  an  example. 
Call  in  the  servants.  Let  me  speak  with  them.  I  wish  to  devote 
my  power,  all  that  is  left  of  me  now,  to  them." 

To  this  Mr.  Peterkin  and  the  doctor  objected,  alleging  that 
his  life  required  quiet. 

"  Do  not  think  of  me,  kind  friends,  I  shall  soon  be  safe,  and 
am  now  well-cared  for.  If  I  did  not  relieve  myself  by  speech, 
the  anxiety  would  kill  me.  As  a  kind  favor,  I  beg  that  you 
will  not  interrupt  me.     Call  the  good  servants." 

Instantly  they  all,  headed  by  Nace,  came  into  the  chamber, 
each  weeping  bitterly. 

"  Good  friends,"  he  began,  and  now  I  noticed  that  his  voice 
was  weak  and  trembling,  "  I  am  about  to  leave  you.  On  earth 
you  will  never  see  me  again  ;  but  there  is  a  better  world,  where 
I  trust  to  meet  you  all.  You  have  been  faithful  and  attentive 
to  me.  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul  for  it,  and,  if 
ever  I  have  been  harsh  or  unkind  to  you  in  any  way,  I  now 
beg  that  you  will  forgive  me.  Do  not  weep,"  he  continued,  as 
their  loud  sobs  began  to  drown  his  feeble  voice.  "  Do  not  weep, 
I  am  going  to  a  happy  home,  where  trouble  and  pain  will  never 
harm  me  more.  Now  let  me  tell  you,  that  my  father  has 
promised  me  that  each  of  you  shall  be  free  immediately  after 
my  death." 

This  announcement  was  like  a  panic  to  the  poor,  broken* 
spirited  wretches.  They  looked  wonderingly  at  young  master, 
and  then  at  each  other,  never  uttering  a  word. 


PARTING    WORDS.  229 

"  Come,  do  not  look  so  bewildered.  Ah,  you  do  not  believe 
me ;  but,  good  as  is  this  news,  it  is  true  ;  is  it  not,  father  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  son,  it  is  true." 

When  Mr.  Peterkin  spoke,  they  simultaneously  started.  That 
voice  had  power  to  recall  them  from  the  wildest  dream  of 
romance.  Though  softened  by  sorrow  and  suffering,  there  was 
still  enough  of  the  wonted  harshness  to  make  those  poor 
wretches  know  it  was  Mr.  Peterkin  who  spoke,  and  they  quaked 
with  fear. 

"  In  the  new  home  and  new  position  in  life,  which  you  will 
take,  my  friends,  I  hope  you  will  not  forget  me ;  but,  above  all 
things,  try  to  save  your  souls.  Go  to  church ;  pray  much  and 
often.  Place  yourselves  under  God's  protection,  and  all  will  be 
right.  You,  Jake,  had  better  select  as  an  occupation  that  of  a 
farmer,  or  manager  of  a  farm  for  some  one  of  those  wealthy  but 
humane  men  of  the  Northern  States.  You,  Dan,  can  make  an 
excellent  dray  driver ;  and  at  that  business,  in  some  of  the 
Northern  cities,  you  would  make  money.  Sally  can  get  a  situa- 
tion as  cook;  and  Ann,  where  is  Ann?"  he  said,  as  he  looked 
around. 

I  stepped  out  from  a  retired  corner  of  the  room,  into  which  I 
had  shrunk  for  the  purpose  of  indulging  my  grief  unobserved. 

"  Don't  weep,  Ann,"  he  began  ;  "  you  distress  me  when  you 
do  so.  You  ought,  rather,  to  rejoice,  because  I  shall  so  soon  be 
set  free  from  this  unhappy  condition.  If  you  love  me,  prepare 
to  meet  me  in  heaven.  This  earth  is  not  our  home  ;  'tis  but  a 
transient  abiding-place,  and,  to  one  of  my  sensitive  temperament, 
it  has  been  none  the  happiest.  I  am  glad  that  I  am  going ;  yet 
a  few  pangs  I  feel,  in  bidding  you  farewell ;  but  think  of  me 
only  as  one  gone  upon  a  pleasant  journey  from  snow-clad  regions 
to  a  land  smiling  with  tropic  beauty,  rich  in  summer  bloom  and 
vocal  with  the  melody  of  southern  birds  !  Think  of  me  as  one 
who  has  exchanged  the  garments  of  a  beggar  for  the  crown  of 
a  king  and  the  singing-robes  of  a  prophet.  I  hope  you  will  do 
well  in  life,  and  I  would  advise  that  you  improve  your  educa- 
tion, and  then  become  a  teacher.     You  are  fitted  for  that  posi- 


230  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

tion.  You  could  fill  it  with  dignity.  Do  all  you  can  to  elevate 
the  mind  as  well  as  manners  of  your  most  unfortunate  race. 
And  now,  poor  old  Nace,  what  pursuit  must  I  recommend  to 
you  ?"  After  a  moment's  pause,  he  added  with  a  smile,  "  I  will 
point  out  none ;  for  you  are  Yankee  enough,  Nace,  to  get  along 
anywhere." 

He  then  requested  that  Ave  should  all  kneel,  whilst  he  be- 
sought for  us  and  himself  the  blessings  of  Divine  grace.  « 

I  can  never  forget  the  words  of  that  beautiful  prayer.  How 
like  fairy  pearls  they  fell  from  his  lips  !  And  I  do  not  think 
there  was  a  single  heart  present  that  did  not  send  out  a  fervent 
response  !  It  seemed  as  if  his  whole  soul  were  thrown  into 
that  one  burning  appeal  to  heaven.  His  mellow  eyes  grew 
purple  in  their  intense  passionateness  ;  his  pale  lip  quivered ; 
and  the  throbbing  veins,  that  wandered  so  blue  and  beautifully 
through  his  temples,  were  swollen  with  the  rapid  tide  of  emo- 
tion. 

As  we  rose  from  our  knees,  he  elevated  himself  upon  his 
elbow,  and  looking  earnestly  at  each  one  of  us,  said  solemnly, 

"  God  bless  all  of  you  !"  then  sank  back  upon  the  pillow;  a 
bright  smile  flitted  over  his  face,  and  he  held  his  hand  out  to 
Miss  Bradly,  who  clasped  it  lovingly. 

''  Good-bye,  kind  friend,"  he  murmured,  ''  never  forsake  the 
noble  Anti-slavery  cause.  Cling  to  it  as  a  rock  and  anchor  of 
safety.     Good-bye,  and  God  bless  you." 

He  then  gave  his  other  hand  to  Dr.  Mandy,  but,  in  attempt- 
ing to  speak,  he  was  checked  by  a  violent  attack  of  coughing, 
and  blood  gushed  from  his  mouth.  The  doctor  endeavored  to 
arrest  the  flow,  but  in  vain  ;  the  crimson  tide,  like  a  stream 
broken  loose  from  its  barrier,  flowed  with  a  stifling  rush. 

Soon  we  discovered,  from  the  ghastly  whiteness  of  the 
patient's  face,  and  the  calm,  set  stare  of  the  eyes,  that  his  life 
was  almost  gone.  Oh,  God !  how  hard,  pinched  and  contracted 
appeared  those  once  beauteous  features  !  How  terrible  was  the 
blank  fixedness  of  those  blue  orbs  !  No  motion  of  the  hand 
could  distract  their  look. 


DEATH  OF  YOUNG  MASTER.  231 

''  Heavens  !"  cried  Miss  Jane,  "  his  eyes  are  set !'' 

"No,  no,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Peterkin,  and  with  many  gestures, 
he  attempted  to  draw  the  staring  eyes  away  from  the  object 
upon  which  they  were  fastened ;  hut  vain  were  air-  his  en- 
deavors. He  had  no  power  to  call  back  a  parting  spirit ;  he, 
who  had  sent  others  to  an  unblest  grave,  could  not  now  breathe 
fresh  vigor  into  a  frame  over  which  Death  held  his  skeleton 
arm.  Where  was  Remorse,  the  unsleeping  fiend,  in  that  mo- 
ment ? 

I  was  looking  earnestly  at  young  master's  face,  when  the 
great  change  passed  over  it.  I  saw  Dr.  Mandy  slowly  press 
down  the  marble  eye-lids  and  gently  straighten  the  rigid  limbs  ; 
then,  very  softly  turning  to  the  friends,  whose  faces  were  hid- 
den by  their  clasped  bands,  he  murmured, 

"All  is  over!" 

Great  heaven  !   what  screams  burst  from  the  afflicted  family. 

Mr.  Peterkin  was  crazy.  His  grief  knew  no  bounds  !  He 
raved,  he  tore  his  hair,  he  struck  his  breast  violently,  and  then 
blasphemed.  He  did  everything  but  pray.  And  that  was  a 
thing  so  unfamiliar  to  him,  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  do  it. 
Miss  Jane  swooned,  whilst  Miss  Tildy  raved  out  against  the  in- 
justice of  Providence  in  taking  her  brother  from  her. 

Miss  Bradly  and  I  laid  the  body  out,  dressed  it  in  a  suit  of 
pure  white,  and  filletted  his  golden  curls  with  a  band  of  white 
rose-buds.  Like  a  gentle  infant  resting  in  its  first,  deep  sleep, 
lay  he  there  ! 

After  spreading  the  snowy  drapery  over  the  body,  Miss 
Bradly  covered  all  the  furniture  with  white  napkins,  giving  to 
the  room  the  appearance  of  a  death-like  chill.  There  were  no 
warm,  rosy,  life-like  tints.  Upon  entering  it,  the  very  heart 
grew  icy  and  still.  The  family,  one  by  one,  retired  to  their 
own  apartments  for  the  indulgence  of  private  and  sacred  grief! 


CHAPTEE    XXVI. 

THE     FUNERAL MISS     BRADLY'S     DEPARTURE THE     DISPUTE 

SPIRIT    QUESTIONS. 

When  I  entered  the  kitchen,  I  found  the  servants  still 
weeping  violently. 

"Poor  soul,"  said  Sally,  ''he's  at  rest  now.  If  he  hain't 
gone  to  heaven,  'taint  no  use  of  havin'  any ;  fur  he  war  de  best 
critter  I  iver  seed.  He  never  gived  me  a  cross  word  in  all  his 
life-time.     Oh,  Lord,  he  am  gone  now  !" 

"  I  'members  de  time,  when  Mister  Jones  whipt  me,  dat 
young  masser  coined  to  me  wid  some  grease  and  rubbed  me  all 
over,  and  talked  so  kind  to  me.  Den  he  tell  me  not  to  say 
nothin'  'bout  it,  and  I  niver  did  mention  it  from  dat  day  until 
dis." 

"  Wal,  he  was  mighty  good,"  added  Jake,  "  and  I's  sorry 
he's  dead." 

"  I'se  glad  he  got  us  our  freedom  afore  he  died.  I  wonder 
if  we'll  git  it  ?■"  asked  ISTace,  who  was  always  intent  upon 
selfishness. 

"  Laws  !  didn't  he  promise  ?  Den  he  mus'  keep  his  word," 
added  Jake. 

I  made  no  comment.  My  thoughts  upon  the  subject  I  kept 
locked  in  the  depths  of  my  own  bosom.  I  knew  then,  as  now, 
that  natures  like  Mr.  Peterkin's  could  be  changed  only  by  the 
interposition  of  a  miracle.  He  had  now  shrunk  beneath  the 
power  of  a  sudden  blow  of  misfortune  ;  but  this  would  soon  pass 
away,  and  the  savage  nature  would  re-assert  itself. 

All  that  gloomy  night,  I  watched  with  Miss  Bradly  and  Dr. 
Mandy  beside  the  corpse.  Often  whilst  the  others  dozed,  would 
I  steal  to  the  bed  and  turn  down  the  covering,  to  gaze  upon  that 


MOURNFUL   THOUGHTS.  233 

still  pale  face  !  Reverently  I  placed  my  hand  upon  that  rich 
golden  head,  with  its  hand  of  flowers. 

There  is  an  angel-like  calm  in  the  repose  of  death;  a  suhdued 
awe  that  impresses  the  coldest  and  most  unbelieving  hearts  ! 
As  I  looked  at  that  still  body,  which  had  so  lately  been  illum- 
ined by  a  radiant  soul,  and  saw  the  noble  look  which  the  face 
yet  wore,  I  inwardly  exclaimed,  Tis  well  for  those  who  sleep 
in  the  Lord ! 

All  that  long  night  I  watched  and  waited,  hoped  and  prayed. 
The  deep,  mysterious  midnight  passed,  with  all  its  fearful  power 
of  passion  and  mystery  ;  the  still,  small  hours  glided  on  as  with 
silver  slippers,  and  then  came  the  purple  glory  of  a  spring  dawn  ! 
I  left  the  chamber  of  death,  and  went  out  to  muse  in  the  hazy 
day -break.  And,  as  I  there  reflected,  my  soul  grew  sick  and 
sore  afraid.  One  by  one  my  friends  had  been  falling  around 
me,  and  now  I  stood  alone.  There  was  no  kind  voice  to  cheer 
me  on  ;  no  gentle,  loving  hand  stretched  forth  to  aid  me ;  no 
smile  of  friendship  to  encourage  me.  In  the  thickest  of  the 
fight,  unbucklered,  I  must  go.  Up  the  weary,  craggy  moun- 
tain I  must  climb.  The  burning  sands  1  must  tread  alone ! 
What  wonder  that  my  spirit,  weak  and  womanly,  trembled  and 
turned  away,  asking  for  the  removal  of  the  cup  of  life  !  Only 
the  slave  can  comprehend  the  amount  of  agony  that  I  endured. 
He  alone  who  clanks  the  chain  of  African  bondage,  can  know 
what  a  cloud  of  sorrow  swept  over  my  heart. 

I  saw  the  great  sun  rise,  like  a  blood-stained  gladiator,  in  the 
East,  and  the  diamond  dew  that  glittered  in  his  early  light.  I 
saw  the  roses  unclose  fragrantly  to  his  warming  call ;  yet  my 
heart  was  chill.  Through  the  flower-decked  grounds  I  walked, 
and  the  aroma  of  rarest  blooms  filled  my  senses  with  delight, 
yet  woke  no  answering  thrill  in  my  bosom.  Must  it  not  be 
wretchedness  indeed,  when  the  heart  refuses  to  look  around 
upon  blooming,  vernal  Nature,  and  answer  her  with  a  smile  of 
freshness  1 

A  little  after  daylight  I  re-entered  the  house,  and  found  Miss 
Bradly  dozing  in  a  large  arm-chair,  with  one  hand  thrown  upon 


234  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

the  cover  of  the  bed  where  lay  young  master's  body.  Dr.  Mandy 
was  outstretched  upon  the  lounge  in  a  profound  sleep.  The  long 
candles  had  burnt  very  low  in  the  sockets,  and  every  now  and 
then  sent  up  that  flicker,  which  has  been  so  often  likened  to  the 
struggles  of  expiring  humanity.  I  extinguished  them,  and  closed 
the  shutters,  to  exclude  the  morning  rays  that  would  else  have 
stolen  in  to  mar  the  rest  of  those  who  needed  sleep.  Then  re- 
turning to  the  yard,  I  culled  a  fresh  bouquet  and  placed  it  upon 
the  breast  of  the  dead.  Gently  touching  Miss  Bradly,  I  roused 
her  and  begged  that  she  would  seek  some  more  comfortable 
quarters,  whilst  I  watched  with  the  body.  She  did  so,  having 
first  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  the  brow  of  the  heavenly  sleeper. 

When  she  withdrew,  I  took  from  my  apron  a  bundle  of  freshly- 
gathered  flowers,  and  set  about  weaving  fairy  chains  and  gar- 
lands, which  I  scattered  in  fantastic  profusion  over  and  around 
the  body. 

A  beautiful  custom  is  it  to  decorate  the  dead  with  fresh  flow- 
ers !  There  is  something  in  the  delicate,  fairy-like  perfume,  and 
in  the  magical  shadings  and  formation  of  flowers,  that  make 
them  appropriate  offerings  to  the  dead.  Strange  mystical  things 
that  they  are,  seemingly  instinct  with  a  new  and  inchoate  life ; 
breathing  in  their  heavenly  fragrance  of  a  hidden  blessing,  tell- 
ing a  story  which  our  dull  ears  of  clay  can  never  comprehend. 
Symbols  of  diviner  being,  expressions  of  quickening  beauty, 
we  understand  ye  not.  We  orAy  feel  that  ye  are  God's  richest 
blessing  to  us,  therefore  we  offer  ye  to  our  loved  and  holy  dead! 

When  the  broad  daylight  began  to  beam  in  through  the  crev- 
ices of  the  shutters,  and  noise  of  busy  life  sounded  from  without, 
the  family  rose.  Separately  they  entered  the  room,  each  turning 
down  the  spread,  and  gazing  tearfully  upon  the  ghastly  face. 
Often  and  often  they  kissed  the  brow,  cheek,  and  lips. 

''How  lovely  he  was  in  life,"  said  Miss  Jane. 

"  Indeed  he  was,  and  he  is  now  an  angel,"  replied  Miss  Tildy, 
with  a  fresh  gush  of  emotion. 

"My  poor,  poor  boy,"  said  Mr.  Peterkin,  as  he  sank  down  on 
the  bed  beside  the  body ;  "  how  proud  I  was  of  him.     I  allers 


THE    CORPSE.  235 

knowed  he'd  be  tuck  'way  from  me.  He  was  too  putty  an'  smart 
an'  good  fur  this  world.  My  heart  wus  so  sot  on  liim  !  yit  some- 
times lie  almost  run  me  crazy.  I  don't  think  it  was  just  in 
Providence  to  take  my  only  boy.  I  could  have  better  spared 
one  of  the  gals.     Ob,  tain't  right,  no  how  it  can  be  fixed." 

And  thus  he  rambled  on,  perfectly  unconscious  of  the  bold 
blasphemy  which  he  was  uttering  with  every  breath  he  drew. 
To  impugn  the  justice  of  his  Maker's  decrees  was  a  common 
practice  with  him.  He  had  so  long  rejoiced  in  power,  and  wit- 
nessed the  uncomplaining  vassalage  of  slaves,  that  he  began  to 
regard  himself  as  the  very  highest  constituted  authority !  This 
is  but  one  of  the  corrupting  influences  of  the  slave-system. 

That  long,  wearing  day,  with  its  weight  of  speechless  grief, 
passed  at  last.  The  neighbors  came  and  went.  Each  praised 
the  beauty  of  the  corpse,  and  inquired  who  bad  dressed  it.  At 
length  the  day  closed,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  lovely  twilight. 
Another  night,  with  its  star-fretted  canopy,  its  queenly,  slow- 
moving  moon,  its  soft  aromatic  air  and  pearly  dew.  And  another 
gray,  hazy  day-break,  yet  still,  as  before,  I  watched  near  the 
dead.  But  on  the  afternoon  of  this  day,  there  came  a  long, 
black  coffin,  with  its  silver  plate  and  mountings;  its  interior  trim- 
mings of  wbite  satin  and  border  of  lace,  and  within  this  they  laid 
the  form  of  young  master !  His  pale,  fair  hands  were  crossed 
prayerfully  upon  his  breast ;  and  a  fillet  of  fresh  white  buds 
bound  his  smootb  brow,  whilst  a  large  bouquet  lay  on  his  breast, 
and  the  wreaths  I  had  woven  were  thrown  round  him  and  over 
his  feet.  Then  the  lid  was  placed  on  and  tightly  screwed  down. 
Then  came  the  friends  and  neighbors,  and  a  good  man  wb,o  read 
the  Bible  and  preached  a  soothing  and  ennobling  sermon.  The 
friends  gave  one  more  look,  another,  a  longer  and  more  clinging 
kiss,  then  all  was  over.  The  slow  procession  followed  after  the 
vehicle  that  carried  the  coffin,  the  servants  walking  behind. 
Poor,  uncared-for  slaves,  as  we  were,  we  paid  a  heart-felt  tribute 
to  his  memory,  and  watered  his  new-made  grave  with  as  sincere 
tears  as  ever  flowed  from  eyes  that  had  looked  on  happier  times. 
I  lingered  until  long  after  the  last  shovel-full   of  dirt  was 


236  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

thrown  upon  him.  Others,  even  his  kindred,  had  left  the  spot 
ere  I  turned  away.  That  little  narrow  grave  was  dearer 
and  nearer  to  me,  as  there  it  lay  so  fresh  and  damp,  shapen 
smoothly  with  the  sexton's  spade,  than  when,  several  weeks 
after,  a  patrician  obelisk  reared  its  Parian  head  towards  the  blue 
sky.  I  have  always  looked  upon  grave-monuments  as  stony 
barriers,  shutting  out  the  world  from  the  form  that  slowly  moul- 
ders below.  When  the  wild  moss  and  verdant  sward  alone 
cover  the  grave,  'tis  easy  for  us  to  imagine  death  only  a  sleep  ; 
but  the  grave-stone,  with  its  carvings  and  frescoes,  seems  a 
sort  of  prison,  cold  and  grim  in  its  aristocratic  splendor.  For 
the  grave  of  those  whom  I  love,  I  ask  no  other  decoration  than 
the  redundant  grass,  the  enamelled  mosaic  of  wild  flowers,  a 
stream  rolling  by  with  its  dirge-like  chime,  a  weeping  willow, 
and  a  moaning  dove. 

The  shades  of  evening  were  falling  darkly  ere  I  left  the 
burial-ground.  There,  amid  the  graves  of  his  ancestors,  beside 
the  tomb  of  his  mother,  I  left  him  sleeping  pleasantly.  "  Life's 
fitful  fever  over,"  his  calm  soul  rests  well. 

In  a  few  weeks  after  his  death,  the  family  settled  back  to 
their  original  manner  of  life.  Mr.  Peterkin  grew  sulky  in  his 
grief.  He  chewed  and  drank  incessantly.  The  remonstrances 
of  his  daughters  had  no  effect  upon  him.  He  took  no  notice  of 
them,  seemed  almost  to  ignore  their  existence.  Feeding  sul- 
lenly on  his  own  rooted  sorrow,  he  cared  nothing  for  those 
around  him. 

We,  the  servants,  had  been  allowed  a  rather  better  time;  for 
as  he  was  entirely  occupied  with  his  own  moody  reflections,  he 
bestowed  upon  us  no  thought.  Yet  we  had  heard  no  word  about 
his  compliance  with  the  sacred  promise  he  had  made  to  the  dead. 
Did  he  feel  no  touch  of  remorse,  or  was  he  so  entirely  sold  to 
the  d — 1,  as  to  be  incapable  of  regret  1 

The  young  ladies  had  been  busy  making  up  their  mourning, 
and  took  but  little  notice  of  domestic  affairs.  Miss  Jane  con- 
cluded to  postpone  her  visit  to  the  city,  on  account  of  their  re- 


THE    CONVERSATION.  237 

cent  bereavement ;  but  later  in  tbe  summer,  she  proposed 
going. 

One  afternoon,  several  weeks  after  tbe  burial  of  young  master, 
Miss  Bradly  came  over  to  see  tbe  ladies,  for  tbe  purpose,  as  sbe 
said,  of  bidding  tbem  farewell,  as  early  on  the  following  morn- 
ing sbe  expected  to  start  North,  to  rejoin  her  family,  from  whom 
she  had  been  so  long  separated.  Miss  Jane  received  the  an- 
nouncement with  her  usual  haughty  smile ;  and  Miss  Tildy, 
who  was  rather  more  of  a  hypocrite,  expressed  some  regret  at 
parting  from  her  old  teacher. 

"  I  fear,  dear  girls,  that  you  will  soon  forget  me.  I 
hoped  that  an  intimate  friendship  had  grown  up  between  us, 
which  nothing  could  destroy ;  but  it  seems  as  if,  in  the  last  half- 
year,  you  have  ceased  to  love  me,  or  care  for  me." 

"  I  can  only  answer  for  myself,  dear  Miss  Bradly,"  said  Miss 
Tildy,  "  and  I  shall  ever  gratefully  and  fondly  remember  you, 
and  my  interesting  school-days." 

"  So  shall  I  pleasantly  recollect  my  school-hours,  and  Miss 
Bradly  as  our  preceptress ;  and,  had  she  not  chosen  to  express 
and  defend  those  awfully  disgraceful  and  incendiary  principles 
of  the  North,  I  should  have  continued  to  think  of  her  with  plea- 
sure."    Miss  Jane  said  this  with  her  freezing  air  of  hauteur. 

"  But  I  remained  silent,  dear  Jane,  for  years.  I  lived  in  your 
midst,  in  tbe  very  families  where  slave-labor  was  employed  ;  yet 
I  molested  none.  I  did  not  inveigh  against  your  peculiar  do- 
mestic institution  ;  though,  Heaven  knows,  every  principle  of 
my  nature  cried  out  against  it.  Surely  for  all  this  I  deserve 
some  kind  consideration." 

''  'Tis  a  great  pity  your  prudence  did  not  hold  out  to  the  last ; 
and  I  can  assure  you  'tis  well  for  the  safety  of  your  life  and 
person  that  you  were  a  woman,  else  would  it  have  gone  hard 
with  you.  Kited  through  the  streets  with  a  coat  of  tar  and  a 
plumage  of  hen-feathers,  you  would  have  been  treated  to  a  rail- 
ride,  none  the  most  complimentary."  Here  Miss  Jane  laughed 
heartily  at  the  ridiculous  picture  she  had  drawn. 

Miss  Bradly 's  face  reddened  deeply  as  she  replied  : 


238  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  And  all  this  would  have  been  inflicted  upon  me  because  I 
dared  to  have  an  opinion  upon  a  subject  of  vital  import  to  this 
our  proud  Republic.  This  would  have  been  the  gracious  hos- 
pitality, which,  as  chivalry-loving  Southerners,  you  would  have 
shown  to  a  stranger  from  the  North  !  If  this  be  your  mode 
and  manner  of  carrying  out  the  Comity  of  States,  I  am  heartily 
glad  that  I  am  about  returning  to  the  other  side  of  the  bor- 
der." 

"And  we  give  you  joy  of  your  swift  return.  Pray,  tell  all 
your  Abolition  friends  that  such  will  be  their  reception,  should 
they  dare  to  venture  among  us." 

"  Yet,  as  with  tearful  eyes  you  stood  round  your  brother's 
death-bed,  you  solemnly  promised  him  that  his  dying  wish,  with 
regard  to  the  liberation  of  your  father's  slaves,  should  be  carried 
out,  and  that  you  would  never  become  the  owner  of  such 
property." 

"  Stop  !  stop  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Jane,  and  her  face  was  livid 
with  rage,  "  you  have  no  right  to  recur  to  that  time.  You  are 
inhuman  to  introduce  it  at  this  moment.  Every  one  of  common 
sense  knows  that  brother  was  too  young  to  have  formed  a  cor- 
rect opinion  upon  a  question  of  such  momentous  value  to  the 
entire  government ;  besides,  a  promise  made  to  the  dying  is 
never  binding.  Why  should  it  be?  We  only  wished  to  relieve 
him  from  anxiety.  Father  would  sell  every  drop  of  his  blood 
before  he  would  grant  a  negro  liberty.  He  is  against  it  in  prin- 
ciple. So  am  I.  Negroes  were  made  to  serve  the  whites  ;  for 
that  purpose  only  were  they  created,  and  I  am  not  one  who  is 
willing  to  thwart  their  Maker's  wise  design." 

Miss  Jane  imagined  she  had  spoken  quite  conclusively  and 
displayed  a  vast  amount  of  learning.  She  looked  around  for 
admiration  and  applause,  which  was  readily  given  her  by  her 
complimentary  sister. 

"  Ah,  Jane,  you  should  have  been  a  man,  and  practiced  law. 
The  courts  would  have  been  the  place  for  the  display  of  your 
brilliant  talents." 

"  But  the  halls  of  legislation  would  not,  I  fear,"  said  Miss 


THE    SISTERS.  239 

Bradly,  "  have  had  the  benefit  of  her  "wise,  just,  and  philan- 
thropic views." 

"I  should  never  have  allowed  the  Abolitionists  their  present 
weight  of  influence,  whilst  the  power  of  speech  and  the  strength 
of  action  remained  to  me,"  answered  Miss  Jane,  very  tartly. 

"  Oh  no,  doubtless  you  would  have  met  the  Douglas  in  his 
hall,  and  the  lion  in  bis  den,"  laughingly  replied  Miss  Bradly. 

Thus  the  conversation  was  carried  on,  upon  no  very  friendly 
terms,  until  Miss  Jane  espied  me,  when  she  thundered  out, 

"  Leave  the  room,  Ann,  we've  no  use  for  negro  company 
here,  unless,  indeed,  as  I  think  most  probable,  Miss  Bradly  came 
to  visit  you,  in  which  case  she  had  better  be  shown  to  the 
kitchen." 

This  insult  roused  Miss  Bradly's  resentment,  and  she  rose, 
saying, 

"  Young  ladies,  I  came  this  evening  to  take  a  pleasant  adieu, 
little  expecting  to  meet  with  such  treatment  ;  but  be  it  as  you 
wish  ;  I  take  my  leave;"  and,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the 
head,  she  departed. 

"Oh,  she  is  insulted !"  cried  Miss  Tildy. 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  is,  we  owe  her  nothing.  For  teaching  us 
she  was  well  paid ;  now  let  her  take  care  of  herself 

•'  I  am  going  after  her  to  say  I  did  not  wish  to  insult  her ;  for 
really,  notwithstandingjier  Abolition  sentiments,  I  like  her  very 
much,  and  I  wish  her  always  to  like  me." 

So  she  started  off  and  overtook  Miss  Bradly  at  the  gate. 
The  explanation  was,  I  presume,  accepted,  for  they  parted  with 
kisses  and  tears. 

That  evening,  when  I  was  serving  the  table,  Miss  Jane  re- 
ported the  conversation  to  her  father,  who  applauded  her  man- 
ner of  argument  greatly. 

"  Set  my  niggers  free,  indeed  !  Catch  me  doing  any  such 
foolish  thing.  I'd  sooner  be  shot.  Don't  you  look  for  anything 
of  the  kind,  Ann  ;  I'd  sooner  put  you  in  my  pocket." 

And  this  was  the  way  he  kept  a  sacred  promise  to  his  dead 
son !     But   cases  such  as  this  are  numerous.     The   neerro  is 


240         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

lulled  with  promises  by  humane  masters — promises  such  as  those 
that  led  the  terror-stricken  Macbeth  on  to  his  fearful  doom. 
They 

"  Keep  the  word  of  promise  to  the  ear, 
But  break  it  to  the  hope." 

How  many  of  them  are  trifled  with  and  lured  on ;  buoyed  up 
from  year  to  year  with  stories,  which  those  who  tell  them  are 
resolved  shall  never  be  realized. 

My  memory  runs  back  now  to  some  such  wretched  recollec- 
tions ;  and  my  heart  shrivels  and  crumbles  at  the  bare  thought, 
like  scorched  paper.  Oh,  where  is  there  to  be  found  injustice 
like  that  which  the  American  slaves  daily  and  hourly  endure, 
without  a  word  of  complaint  ?  "  We  die  daily" — die  to  love, 
to  hope,  to  feeling,  humanity,  and  all  the  high  and  noble  gifts 
that  make  existence  something  more  than  a  mere  breathing  span. 
We  die  to  all  enlargement  of  mind  and  expansion  of  heart. 
Our  every  energy  is  bound  down  with  many  bolts  and  bars; 
yet  whole  folios  have  been  written  by  men  calling  themselves 
wise,  to  prove  that  we  are  by  far  the  happiest  portion  of  the 
population  of  this  broad  Union  !  What  a  commentary  upon  the 
liberality  of  free  men  ! 

After  the  conversation  with  Miss  Bradly,  the  young  ladies 
began  to  resume  their  old  severity,  which  the  death  of  young 
master  had  checked  ;  but  Mr.  Peterkin  still  seemed  moody  and 
troubled.  He  drank  to  a  frightful  excess.  It  seemed  to  have 
increased  his  moroseness.  He  slept  sounder  at  night,  and  later 
in  the  morning,  and  was  swollen  and  bloated  to  almost  twice  his 
former  dimensions.  His  face  was  a  dark  crimson  purple  ;  he 
spoke  but  little,  and  then  never  without  an  oath.  His  daughters 
remarked  the  change,  but  sought  not  to  dissuade  him.  Perhaps 
they  cared  not  if  his  excesses  were  followed  by  death.  I  had 
long  known  that  they  treated  him  with  respect  only  out  of  ap- 
prehension that  they  would  be  cut  short  of  patrimonial  favors. 
But  the  death  of  young  master  had  almost  certainly  insured 
them  against  this,  and  they  were  unusually  insolent  to  their 


nature's  charms.  241 

father ;  but  this  he  appeared  not  to  notice ;  for  he  was  too 
sottishly  drunk  even  to  heed  them. 

The  necessity  of  wearing  black,  and  the  custom  of  remaining 
away  from  places  of  amusement,  had  forced  Miss  Jane  to  de- 
cline, or  at  least,  postpone  her  trip  to  the  city. 

I  shall  ever  remember  that  summer  as  one  of  unusual  luxu- 
riance. It  seemed  to  me,  that  the  forests  were  more  redundant 
of  foliage  than  I  had  ever  before  seen  them.  The  wild  flowers 
were  gayer  and  brighter,  and  the  sky  of  a  more  glorious  blue ; 
even  the  little  feathered  songsters  sang  more  deliciously ;  and 
oh,  the  moonlight  nights  seemed  wondrojusly  soft  and  silvery, 
and  the  hosts  of  stars  seven  times  multiplied  !  I  began  to  live, 
again.  Away  through  the  old  primeval  woods  I  took  occasion- 
ally a  stolen  ramble  !  Whole  volumes  of  romance  I  drained 
from  the  ever-affluent  library  of  Nature.     I  truly  found — 

-   4i  Tongues  in  the  trees ;  books,  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything." 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  how  much  I  enjoyed  those  solitary 
walks,  few  and  far  between  as  they  were.  I  used  to  wonder 
why  the  ladies  did  not  more  enjoy  the  luxury  of  frequent  com- 
munion with  Nature  in  her  loveliest  haunts  !  Strange,  is  it  not, 
how  little  the  privileged  class  value  the  pleasures  and  benefits 
by  which  they  are  surrounded  !  I  would  have  given  ten  years 
of  my  life  (though  considering  my  trouble,  the  sacrifice  would 
have  been  small)  to  be  allowed  to  linger  long  beside  the  wind- 
ing, murmuring  brook,  or  recline  at  the  fountain,  looking  far 
away  into  the  impenetrable  blue  above ;  or  to  gather  wild 
flowers  at  will,  and  toy  with  their  tiny  leaflets  !  but  indulgences 
such  as  these  would  have  been  condemned  and  punished  as  in- 
dolence. 

I  cannot  now,  honestly,  recall  a  single  pleasure  that  was 
allowed  me,  during  my  long  slavery  to  Mi'.  Peterkin.  Then 
who  can  ask  me,  if  I  would  not  rather  go  back  into  bondage 
than  live,  aye  live  (that  is  the  word),  with  the  proud  sense  of 
freedom  mine  ?  I  have  often  been  asked  if  the  burden  of  find- 
11 


242  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

ing  food  and  raiment  for  myself  was  not  great  enough  to  make 
me  wish  to  resign  my  liberty.  No,  a  thousand  times  no  !  Let 
me  go  half-clad,  and  meanly  fed,  but  still  give  me  the  custody 
of  my  own  person,  without  a  master  to  spy  into  and  question 
out  my  up-risings  and  down-sittings,  and  confine  me  like  a 
leashed  hound  !  Slavery  in  its  mildest  phases  (of  which  I 
have  only  heard,  for  I've  always  seen  it  in  its  darker  terrors) 
must  be  unhappy.  The  very  knowledge  that  you  have  no  con- 
trol over  yourself,  that  you  are  subject  to  the  will,  even  whim, 
of  another ;  that  every  jmvilege  you  enjoy  is  yours  only  by 
concession,  not  right,  must  depress  and  all  but  madden  the  vic- 
tim. In  no  situation,  with  no  flowery  disguises,  can  the  revolt- 
ing institution  be  made  consistent  with  the  free-agency  of  man, 
which  we  all  believe  to  be  the  Divine  gift.  We  have  been  and 
are  cruelly  oppressed  ;  why  may  we  not  come  out  with  our 
petition  of  right,  and  declare  ourselves  independent  ?  For  this 
were  the  infant  colonies  applauded  ;  who  then  shall  inveigh 
against  us  for  a  practice  of  the  same  heroism  1  Every  word 
contained  in  their  admirable  Declaration,  applies  to  us. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE    AWFUL    CONFESSION    OF    THE    MASTER — DEATH  ;    ITS    COLD 
SOLEMNITY. 

Time  passed  on  ;  Mr.  Peterkin  drank  more  and  more  vio- 
lently. He  had  grown  immense  in  size,  and  now  slept  nearly 
all  the  day  as  well  as  night.  Dr.  Mandy  had  told  the  young 
ladies  that  there  was  great  danger  of  apoplexy.  I  frequently 
saw  them  standing  off,  talking,  and  looking  at  their  father  with 
a  strange  expression,  the  meaning  of  which  I  could  not  divine ; 
but  sure  I  am  there  was  no  love  in  it,  'twas  more  like  a  surmise 
or  inquiry,  "  How  long  will  you  be  here  ?'-'  I  would  not  "  set 
dowji  aught  in  malice,"  I  would  rather  "extenuate,"  yet  am  I 
bound  in  truth  to  say  that  I  think  their  father's  death  was  an 
event  to  which  they  looked  with  pleasure.  He  had  not  been 
showy  enough  for  them,  nor  had  he  loved  such  display  as  they 
wished  :  true,  he  allowed  them  any  amount  of  money  ;  but  he 
objected  to  conforming  to  certain  fashions,  which  they  consid- 
ered indispensable  to  their  own  position ;  and  this  difference  in 
ideas  and  tastes  created  much  discord.  They  were  not  girls  of 
feeling  and  heart.  To  them,  a  father  was  nothing  more  than 
an  accidental  guardian,  whose  duty  it  was  to  supply  them  with 
money. 

Late  one  night,  when  I  had  fallen  into  a  profound  sleep,  such 
an  one  as  I  had  not  known  for  months,  almost  years,  I  was  sud- 
denly aroused  by  a  loud  knocking  at  the  cabin-door,  and  a 
shout  of — 

"  Ann  !  Ann  !" 

I  instantly  recognized  the  sharp  staccato  notes  of  Miss  Jane's 
voice  ;  and,  starting  quickly  up,  I  opened  the  door,  but  half- 
dressed,  and  inquired  what  was  wanting  ? 

[243] 


244         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

"  Are  you  one  of  the  Seven  Sleepers,  that  it  requires  such 
knocking  to  arouse  you  1  Here  I've  been  beating  and  banging 
the  door,  and  yet  you  still  slept  on." 

I  stammered  out  something  like  an  excuse ;  and  she  told  me 
master  was  very  ill,  and  I  must  instantly  heat  a  large  kettle  of 
water  ;  that  Dr.  Mandy  had  been  sent  for,  and  upon  his  arrival, 
prescribed  a  hot  bath. 

As  quickly  as  the  fire,  aided  by  mine  and  Sally's  united 
efforts,  could  heat  the  water,  it  was  got  ready.  Jake,  Nace, 
and  Dan  lifted  the  large  bathing-tub  into  Mr.  Peterkin's  room, 
filled  it  with  the  warm  water,  and  placed  him  in  it.  The  case 
was  as  Dr.  Mandy  had  predicted.  Mr.  P.  had  been  seized  with 
a  violent  attack  of  apoplexy,  and  his  life  was  despaired  of. 

All  the  efforts  of  the  physician  seemed  to  fail.  When  Mr. 
Peterkin  did  revive,  it  was  frightful  to  listen  to  him.  Such 
revolting  oaths  as  he  used  !  Such  horrid  blasphemy  as  poured 
from  his  lips,  I  shrink  from  the  foulness  of  recording. 

Raving  like  a  madman,  he  called  upon  God  to  restore  his 
son,  or  stand  condemned  as  unjust.  His  daughters,  in  sheer 
affright,  sent  for  the  country  preacher ;  but  the  good  man 
could  effect  nothing.  His  pious  words  were  wasted  upon  ears 
duller  than  stone. 

"  I  don't  care  a  d — n  for  your  religion.  None  of  your  hypo- 
critical prayin'  round  me,"  Mr.  Peterkin  would  say,  when  the 
good  parson  sought  to  beguile  his  attention,  and  lead  him  to 
the  contemplation  of  divine  things. 

Frightful  it  was,  to  me,  to  stand  by  his  bed-side,  and  hear 
him  call  with  an  oath  for  whiskey,  which  was  refused. 

He  had  drunk  so  long,  and  go  deeply,  that  now,  when  he 
was  suddenly  checked,  the  change  was  terrible  to  witness.  He 
grew  timid,  and  seemed  haunted  by  terrible  spectres.  Anon 
he  would  call  to  some  fair-haired  woman,  and  shout  out  that 
there  was  blood,  clotted  blood,  on  her  ringlets;  then,  rolling 
himself  up  in  the  bed  covering,  he  would  shriek  for  the  skies 
and  mountains  to  hide  him  from  the  meek  reproach  of  those 
girlish  eyes  ! 


CONFESSION.  245 

"  Something  terrible  is  on  his  memory,"  said  the  doctor  to 
Miss  Jane  1     "  Do  yon  know  aught  of  this  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied  with  a  shudder. 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  asked  Miss  Tildy,  "  how  often 
Johnny's  eyes  seemed  to  recall  a  remorseful  memory,  and  how 
father  would,  as  now,  cry  for  them  to  shut  out  that  look  which 
so  tormented  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  and  they  both  fled  from  the  room,  and  did  not 
again  go  near  their  father.  On  the  third  evening  of  his  illness, 
when  Dr.  Mandy  (who  had  been  constantly  with  him)  sat  by 
his  bed,  holding  his  pulse,  be  turned  on  his  side,  and  asked  in 
a  mild  tone,  quite  unusual  to  him, 

"  Doctor,  must  I  die  ?  Tell  me  the  truth  ;  I  don't  want  to 
be  deceived." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  the  doctor  replied,  "  Yes,  Mr.  Peter- 
kin,  I  will  speak  the  truth ;  I  don't  think  you  can  recover  from 
this  attack,  and,  if  I  am  not  very  much  mistaken,  but  a  few 
hours  of  mortal  life  now  remain  to  you." 

"  Then  I  must  speak  on  a  matter  what  has  troubled  me  a 
good  deal.  If  I  was  a  good  scholar  I'd  a  writ  it  out,  and  left 
it  fur  you  to  read ;  but  as  I  warn't  much  edicated,  I  couldn't 
do  that,  so  I'll  jist  tell  you  all,  and  relieve  my  mind."  Here 
Mr.  Peterkin's  face  assumed  a  frightful  expression  ;  his  eyes 
rolled  terribly  in  his  head,  and  blazed  with  an  expression  which 
no  language  can  paint.  His  vejy  hair  seemed  erect  with  ter- 
ror. 

"  Don't  excite  yourself;  be  calm  !  "Wait  until  another  time, 
then  tell  me." 

''  No,  no,  I  must  speak  now,  I  feel  it  'twill  do  me  good.  Long 
time  ago  I  had  a  good  kind  mother,  and  one  lovely  sister;" 
and  here  his  voice  sank  to  a  whisper.  "  My  father  I  can't  re- 
member ;  he  died  when  I  was  a  baby.  I  was  a  wild  boy  ;  a 
•  brick,'  as  they  usin'  to  call  me.  'Way  off  in  old  Virginny  I 
was  born  and  raised.  My  mother  was  a  good,  easy  sort  of 
woman,  that  never  used  any  force  with  her  children,  jist  sich  a 
person  as  should  raise  gals,  not  fit  to  manage  onruly  boys  like 


246  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

me.  I  jist  had  my  own  way ;  came  and  went  when  I  pleased. 
Mother  didn't  often  reprove  me  ;  whenever  she  did,  it  was  in  a 
gentle  sort  of  way  that  I  didn't  mind  at  all.  I'd  promise  far 
enough  ;  but  then,  I'd  go  and  do  my  own  way.  So  I  growed 
up  to  the  age  of  eighteen.  I'd  go  off  on  little  trips  ;  get  my- 
self in  debt,  and  mother  'd  have  to  pay.  She  an'  sis  had  to 
take  in  sewin'  to  support  'emselves,  and  me  too.  Wal,  they 
didn't  make  money  fast  enough  at  this  ;  so  they  went  out  an' 
took  in  washin'.  Sis,  poor  little  thing,  hired  herself  out  by  the 
day,  to  get  extry  money  for  to  buy  little  knic-nacs  fur  mother, 
whose  health  had  got  mighty  bad.  Wal,  their  rent  had  fell 
due,  and  Lucy  (my  sister)  and  mother  had  bin  savin'  up  money 
fur  a  good  while,  without  sayin'  anything  to  me  'bout  it ;  but 
of  nights  when  they  thought  I  was  asleep,  I  seed  'em  slip  the 
money  in  a  drawer  of  an  old  bureau,  that  stood  in  the  room 
whar  I  slept.  Wal,  I  owed  some  men  a  parcel  of  money, 
gamblin'  debts,  and  they  had  bin  sorter  quarrelin'  with  me 
'bout  it,  and  railin'  of  me  'bout  my  want  of  spirit,  and  I  was 
allers  sort  of  proud  an'  very  high-tempered.  So  I  'gan  to 
think  mother  and  Luce  was  a  saving  up  money  fur  to  buy 
finery  fur  'emselves,  an'  I  'greed  I'd  fix  'em  fur  it.  So  one 
night  I  made  my  brags  to  the  boys  that  I'd  pay  the  next 
night,  with  intrust.  Some  of  'em  bet  big  that  I  wouldn't  do  it. 
So  then  I  was  bound  fur  it.  Accordin',  next  night  I  tried  to 
get  inter  the  drawer;  but  found  it  fast  locked.  I  tried  agin. 
At  length,  with  a  wrinch,  I  bust  it  open,  an'  thar  before  me,  all 
in  bright  specie,  lay  fifty  dollars  !  A  big  sum  it  'peared  to 
me,  and  then  I  was  all  afired  with  passion,  for  Luce  had  re- 
fused me  when  I  had  axed  her  to  lend  me  money.  Jist  as  I " 
had  pocketed  it,  an'  was  'about  to  drive  out  of  the  room,  Lucy 
opened  the  door,  an'  seein'  the  drawer  wide  open,  she  guessed 
it  all.  She  gave  one  loud  scream,  saying,  '  Oh,  all  our  hard 
savin's  is  gone.'  I  made  a  sign  to  her  to  keep  silent ;  but  she 
went  on  hallowin'  and  cotcht  hold  of  me,  an'  by  a  sort  of  quare 
strength,  she  got  her  arm  round  me,  an'  her  hand  in  my  pocket, 
where  the  money  was  " 


REMORSE.  247 

"  You  musn't  have  this,  indeed  you  musn't,"  said  she,  M  for  it 
is  to  pay  our  rent." 

One  desperate  effort  I  made,  an'  knocked  her  to  the  floor. 
Her  head  struck  agin  the  sharp  part  of  the  bureau,  and  the 
blood  gushed  from  it ;  I  give  one  lond  yell  for  mother,  an'  then 
fled.     Give  me  some  water,"  he  added,  in  a  hollow  tone. 

After  moistening  his  lips,  he  continued  : 

"  Reachin'  my  companions,  I  paid  down  every  cent  of  the 
money,  principal  and  interest,  then  got  my  bet  paid,  and  left 
'em,  throwin'  a  few  dollars  toward  'em  for  the  gineral  treat. 

"About  midnight,  soft  as  a  cat,  I  crept  along  to  our  house; 
and  I  knew  from  the  light  through  the  open  shutter  of  the  win- 
der, that  she  was  either  dead  or  dyin' ;  for  it  was  a  rule  at  our 
house  to  have  the  lights  put  out  afore  ten. 

"  I  slipped  up  close  to  the  winder,  and  look  in'  in,  saw  the 
very  wust  that  I  had  expected — Lucy  in  her  shroud  !  A  long, 
white  sheet  was  spread  over  the  body  !  Two  long  candles  burnt 
at  the  head  and  foot  of  the  corpse.  Three  neighbor-women  was 
watchin'  with  her.  While  I  still  looked,  the  side  door  opened, 
and  mother  came  in,  looking  white  as  a  ghost.  She  turned  down 
the  sheet  from  the  body.  I  pressed  my  face  still  closer  to  the 
winder-pane  ;  and  saw  that  white,  dead  face ;  the  forehead, 
where  the  wound  had  been  given,  was  bandaged  up.  Mother 
knelt  down,  and  cried  out  with  a  tone  that  froze  my  blood — 

"  'My  child,  my  murdered  child  !'  I  did  not  tarry  another 
minute;  but  with  one  loud  yell  bounded  away.  This  scream 
roused  the  women,  who  seized  up  the  candle  and  run  out  to  the 
door.  I  looked  back  an'  saw  them  with  candles  in  hand,  ex- 
amining round  the  house.  For  weeks  I  lived  in  the  woods  on 
herbs  and  nuts  ;  occasionally  stoppin'  at  farm-houses,  an'  buyin' 
a  leetle  milk  and  bread,  still  I  journeyed  on  toward  the  West, 
my  land  of  promise.  At  last,  on  foot,  after  long  travel,  I  reached 
Kaintuck.  I  engaged  in  all  sorts  of  head-work,  but  did'nt  suc- 
ceed very  well  till  I  began  to  trade  in  niggers ;  then  I  made 
money  fast  enough.  I  was  a  hard  master.  It  seemed  like  I 
was  the  same  as  that  old  Ishmael  you  read  of  in  the  old  book ; 


248  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

my  hand  was  agin  every  man,  and  every  man's  agin  me. 
After  while,  I  got  mighty  rich  from  tradin'  in  niggers,  and  mar- 
ried. These  is  my  children.  This  is  all  of  my  story, — a  had 
one  'tis  too  ;  but,  doctor,  that  boy,  my  poor,  dead  Johnny,  was 
so  like  Lncy  that  he  almost  driv'  me  mad.  At  times  he  had  a 
sartin  look,  jist  like  hern,  that  driv'  a  dagger  to  my  heart.  Oh, 
Lord  !  if  I  die,  what  will  become  of  me  1  Give  me  some  whis- 
key, doctor,  I  mus'  have  some,  for  the  devil  and  all  his  imps 
seem  to  be  here." 

He  began  raving  in  a  frightful  manner,  and  sprang  out  of 
bed  so  furiously  that  the  doctor  deemed  it  necessary  to  have 
him  confined.  Jake,  Dan,  and  Nace  were  called  in  to  assist  in 
tying  their  master.  It  was  with  difficulty  they  accomplished 
their  task  ;  but  at  last  it  was  done.  Panting  and  foaming  at 
the  mouth,  this  Goliath  of  human  abominations  lay  !  He,  who 
had  so  often  bound  negroes,  was  now  by  them  bound  down  ! 
If  he  had  been  fully  conscious,  his  indignation  would  have 
known  no  limits. 

Miss  Jane  sent  for  me  to  come  to  her  room.  I  found  her  in 
hysterics.  Immediately,  at  her  command,  I  set  about  rubbing 
her  head,  and  chafing  her  temples  and  hands  with  cologne; 
but  all  that  I  could  do  seemed  to  fall  far  short  of  affording  any 
relief.  It  appeared  to  me  that  her  lungs  were  unusually  strong, 
for  such  screams  I  hardly  ever  listened  to  ;  but  her  life  was 
stout  enough  to  stand  it.     The  wicked  are  long-lived ! 

Miss  Tildy  had  more  self-control.  She  moved  about  the 
house  with  her  usual  indifference,  caring  for  and  heeding  no 
one,  except  as  she  bestowed  upon  me  an  occasional  reprimand, 
which,  to  this  day,  I  cannot  think  I  deserved.  If  she  mislaid  an 
article  of  apparel,  she  instantly  accused  me  of  having  sto- 
len it  ;  and  persisted  in  the  charge  until  it  was  found.  She 
always  accompanied  her  accusations  with  impressive  blows.  It 
is  treatment  such  as  this  that  robs  the  slave  of  all  self-respect. 
He  is  constantly  taught  to  look  upon  himself  as  an  animal, 
devoid  of  ail  good  attributes,  without  principle,  and  full  of  vice. 
If  he  really  tries  to  practice  virtue   and  integrity,  he  gets  no 


THE  CHAMBER  OF  DEATH.  249 

credit  for  it.  "  Honest  for  a  nigger"  is  a  phrase  much  in  use 
in  Kentucky  ;  the  satirical  significance  of  which  is  perfectly 
understood  by  the  astute  African.  I  knew  that  it  was  hard  for 
me  to  hold  fast  to  my  principles  amid  such  fierce  trials.  It  was 
bo  common  a  charge — that  of  liar  and  thief — that  despite  my 
practice  to  the  contrary,  I  almost  began  to  accept  the  terms  as 
deserved.  In  some  cases,  the  human  conscience  is  a  flexile 
thing  !  but,  thank  Heaven  !  mine  withstood  the  trial  !         » 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  after  Mr.  Peterkin's  illness, 
his  perturbed  spirit,  amid  imprecations  and  blasphemies  the 
most  horrible,  took  its  leave  of  the  mortal  tenement.  "Whither 
went  it,  oh,  angel  of  mercy  ?  A  fearful  charge  had  his  guar- 
dian-angel to  render  up. 

This  was  the  second  time  I  had  witnessed  the  death  of  a 
human  master.  1  had  no  tears  ;  and,  as  a  veracious  historian, 
I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  regard  it  as  a  beneficent  dispensation 
of  Divine  Providence.  He,  my  tyrant,  had  gone  to  his  Judge 
to  render  a  fearful  account  of  the  dreadful  deeds  done  in  the 
body. 

After  he  was  laid  out  and  appropriately  dressed,  and  the  room 
darkened,  the  young  ladies  came  in  to  look  at  him.  I  believe 
they  wept.  At  least,  I  can  testify  to  the  premonitory  symp- 
toms of  weeping,  viz.,  the  fluttering  of  white  pocket-handker- 
chiefs, in  close  proximity  to  the  eyes  !  The  neighbors  gathered 
round  them  with  bottles  of  sal-volatile,  camphor,  fans,  &c,  &c. 
There  was  no  dearth  of  consolatory  words,  for  they  were  rich. 
Though  Mr.  Peterkin's  possessions  were  vast,  he  could  carry 
no  tithe  of  them  to  that  land  whither  he  had  gone  ;  and  at  that 
bar  before  which  he  must  stand,  there  would  flash  on  him  the 
stern  eye  of  Justice.  His  trial  there  would  be  equitable  and 
rigid.  His  money  could  avail  him  nought  ;  for  there  were 
allowed  no  "  packed  juries,"  bribed  and  suborned  witnesses, 
no  wily  attorneys  to  turn  Truth  astray;  no  subtleties  and 
quibbles  of  litigation  ;  all  is  clear,  straight,  open,  even-handed 
justice,  and  his  own  deeds,  like  a  mighty  cloud  of  evidence, 
11* 


250  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

would  rise  up  against  him — and  so  we  consign  him  to  his  fate 
and  to  his  mother  earth. 

But  he  was  befittingly  buried,  even  with  the  rites  of  Chris- 
tianity !  There  was  a  man  in  a  white  neck-cloth,  with  a  sombre 
face,  who  read  a  psalm,  offered  up  a  well-worded  prayer,  gave 
out  a  text,  and  therefrom  preached  an  appropriate,  elegiac  ser- 
mon. Not  one,  to  be  sure,  in  which  the  peculiar  virtues  of  bro- 
ther Peterkin  were  set  forth,  but  a  sort  of  pious  oration,  wherein 
religion,  practical  and  revealed,  was  duly  encouraged,  and 
great  sympathy  offered  to  the  lovely  and  bereaved  daughters, 
&c,  &c. 

The  body  was  placed  in  a  very  fine  coffin,  and  interred  in 
the  family  burying-ground,  near  his  wife  and  son!  At  the 
grave,  Miss  Jane,  who  Avell  understood  scenic  effect,  contrived 
to  get  up  an  attack  of  syncope,  and  fell  prostrate  beside  the 
new-made  grave.  Of  course  "the  friends"  gathered  round 
her  with  restoratives,  and,  shouting  for  ''  air,"  they  made  an 
opening  in  the  crowd,  through  which  she  was  borne  to  a  car- 
riage and  driven  home. 

I  had  lingered,  tenderly,  beside  young  master's  tomb,  little 
heeding  what  was  passing  around,  when  this  theatrical  excite- 
ment roused  me.  Oh  !  does  not  one  who  has  real  trouble, 
heart-agony,  sicken  when  he  hears  of  these  affectations  of  grief? 

Slowly,  but  I  suspect  with  right-willing  hearts,  the  crowd 
turned  away  from  the  grave,  each  betaking  himself  to  his  own 
home  and  pursuit. 

A  few  weeks  after,  a  stately  monument,  commemorative  of 
his  good  deeds,  was  erected  to  the  memory  of  James  Peterkin. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE    BRIDAL — ITS    CEREMONIES — A    TRIP,     AND    A    CHANGE     OF 
HOMES — THE  MAGNOLIA — A  STRANGER. 

Weeks  rolled  monotonously  by  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Peter- 
kin.  There  was  nothing  to  break  the  cloud  of  gloom  that  en- 
veloped everything. 

The  ladies  were,  as  ever,  cruel  and  abusive.  Existence  be- 
came more  painful  to  me  than  it  had  been  before.  It  seemed 
as  if  every  hope  was  dead  in  my  breast.  An  iron  chain  bound 
every  aspiration,  and  I  settled  down  into  the  lethargy  of  de- 
spair. Even  Nature,  all  radiant  as  she  is,  had  lost  her  former 
charms.  I  looked  not  beyond  the  narrow  horizon  of  the  pres- 
ent. The  future  held  out  to  me  no  allurements,  whilst  the  dark 
and  gloomy  past  was  an  arid  plain,  without  fountain,  or  flower, 
or  sunshine,  over  which  I  dared  not  send  my  broken  spirit. 

In  this  state  of  dreary  monotony,  I  passed  my  life  for 
months,  until  an  event  occurred  which  changed  my  whole  after- 
fate. 

Mr.  Summerville,  who,  it  seems,  had  kept  up  a  regular  cor- 
respondence with  Miss  Jane,  made  us  a  visit,  and,  after  much 
secret  talking  in  dark  parlors,  long  rambles  through  the  woods, 
twilight  and  moonlight  whisperings  on  the  gallery,  Miss  Jane 
announced  that  there  would,  on  the  following  evening,  be  per- 
formed a  marriage  ceremony  of  importance  to  all,  but  of  very 
particular  interest  to  Mr.  Summerville  and  herself. 

Accordingly,  on  the  evening  mentioned,  the  marriage  rite 
was  solemnized  in  the  presence  of  a  few  social  friends,  among 
whom  Dr.  Mandy  and  wife  shone  conspicuously.  I  duly  plied 
the  guests  with  wine,  cakes  and  confections. 

Miss   Tildy,  by  the   advice  of  her  bride-sister,   enacted   the 

[2d] 


252  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

pathetic  very  perfectly.  She  wept,  sighed,  and,  I  do  believe, 
fainted  or  tried  to  faint.  This  was  at  the  special  suggestion 
of  her  sister,  who  duly  commended  and  appreciated  her. 

Mr.  Summerville,  for  the  several  days  that  he  remained  with 
us,  looked,  and  was,  I  suppose,  the  very  personification  of  de- 
light. 

In  about  a  week  or  ten  days  after  the  solemnization  of  the 
matrimonial  rite,  Mr.  Summerville  made  his  "  better  half"  (or 
worse,  I  know  not  which),  understand  that  very  important  busi- 
ness urged  his  immediate  return  to  the  city.  Of  course,  whilst 
the  novelty  of  the  situation  lasted,  she  was  as  obedient  and  com- 
plaisant as  the  most  exacting  husband  could  demand,  and  instantly 
consented  to  her  lord's  request.  She  bade  me  get  ready  to 
accompany  her  ;  and,  as  she  had  heard  that  people  from  the 
country  were  judged  according  to  the  wardrobe  of  their  ser- 
vants, she  prepared  for  me  quite  a  decent  outfit. 

One  bright  morning,  I  shall  ever  remember  it,  we  started  off 

Avith  innumerable  trunks,  band-boxes,  &c. — for  the  city  of  L . 

Without  one  feeling  of  regret,  I  turned  my  face  from  the  Peter- 
kin  farm.  I  never  saw  it  after,  save  in  dark  and  fearful  dreams, 
from  which  I  always  awoke  with  a  shudder.  I  felt  half-eman- 
cipated, when  my  back  was  turned  against  it,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance loomed  up  the  city  and  freedom.  I  had  a  queer  fancy,  that 
if  the  Peterkin  influence  were  once  thrown  off,  the  rest  would 
speedily  succeed! 

If  I  had  only  been  allowed,  I  could  have  shouted  out  like  a 
school-boy  freed  from  a  difficult  lesson ;  but  Miss  Jane's  check- 
ing glance  was  upon  me,  and  'twas  like  winter's  frozen  breath 
over  a  gladsome  lake. 

I  well  remember  the  beautiful  ride  upon  the  boat,  and  how 
long  and  lingeringly  I  gazed  over  the  guard,  looking  down  at 
the  blue,  dolphin-like  waves.  All  the  day,  whilst  others  lounged 
and  talked,  I  was  looking  at  those  same  curling,  frothy  billows, 
making,  in  my  own  mind,  fifty  fantastic  comparisons,  which 
then  appeared  to  me  very  brilliant,  but,  since  I  have  learned 
to  think  differently.     Truly,  the  foam  has  died  on  the  wave. 


THE    HOTEL.  253 

When  night  came  on,  wrapped  in  her  sombre  purple,  yet  glit- 
tering with  a  cuirass  of  stars  and  a  helmet  of  planets,  the 
waters  sparkled  and  danced  with  a  fairy-like  beauty,  and  I 
thought  I  had  never  beheld  anything  half  so  ecstatic  !  There 
was  none  on  that  crowded  steamer  who  dreamed  of  the  glory 
that  was  nestling',  like  a  thing  of  love,  deep  and  close  down  in 
the  poor  slave's  breast ! 

To  those  who  surrounded  me,  this  was  but  an  ordinary  sight ; 
to  me  it  was  one  of  strange,  unimagined  loveliness.  I  was  careful, 
however,  to  disguise  my  emotions.  I  would  have  given  worlds 
(had  I  been  their  possessor)  to  speak  my  joy  in  one  wild  word, 
or  to  shout  it  forth  in  a  single  cry. 

This  pleasure,  like  all  others,  found  its  speedy  end.  The  next 
morning,  about  ten  o'clock,  we  landed  in  L — ,  a  city  of  some 
commercial  consequence  in  the  West.  Indeed,  by  old  residents 
of  the  interior  of  Kentucky,  it  is  regarded  as  "  the  city."  I  have 
often  since  thought  of  my  first  landing  there  ;  of  it's  dusty,  dirty 
coal-besmoked  appearance ;  of  its  hedge  of  drays,  its  knots  of 
garrulous  and  noisy  drivers,  and  then  the  line  of  dusky  ware- 
houses, storage  rooms,  &c.  All  this  instantly  rises  to  my  mind 
when  I  hear  that  growing  city  spoken  of. 

Mr.  Summerville  engaged  one  of  the  neatest-looking  coaches 
at  the  wharf;  and  into  it  Miss  Jane,  baggage  and  servant  were 
unceremoniously  hurried.  I  had  not  the  privilege  and  scarcely 
the  wish  to  look  out  of  the  coach- window,  yet,  from  my  crowded 
and  uncomfortable  position,  I  could  catch  a  sight  of  an  occa- 
sional ambitious  barber's  pole,  or  myriad-tinted  chemists'  bot- 
tles ;  all  these,  be  it  remembered,  were  novelties  to  me,  who 
had  never  been  ten  miles  from  Mr.  Peterkin's  farm.  At  length 
the  driver  drew  a  halt  at  the  G —  House,  as  Mr.  Summerville 
had  directed,  and,  at  this  palatial-looking  building  Mr.  Sum- 
merville had  taken  quarters.  How  well  I  recollect  its  wide 
hall,  its  gothic  entrance  and  hospitable-looking  vestibule !  The 
cane-colored  floor  cloth,  corresponding  with  the  oaken  walls, 
struck  me  as  the  harmonious  design  of  an  artistic  mind. 

For  a  few  moments  only  was  Miss  Jane  left  in  the  neat  re- 


254         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

ception-rooin,  when  a  nice-looking  mulatto  man  entered,  and,  in 
a  low,  gentlemanly  tone,  informed  her  that  her  room  was  ready. 
Taking  the  basket  and  portmanteau  from  me,  he  politely  re- 
quested that  we  would  follow  him  to  room  No.  225.  Through 
winding  corridors  and  interminable  galleries,  he  conducted  us, 
until,  at  last,  we  reached  it.  Drawing  a  key  from  his  pocket, 
he  applied  it  to  the  lock,  and  bade  Miss  Jane  enter.  She  was 
much  pleased  with  the  arrangement  of  the  furniture,  the  adjust- 
ment of  the  drapery,  &c. 

The  floor  was  covered  with  a  beautiful  green  velvet  carpet, 
torn  bouquet  pattern,  whilst  the  design  of  the  rug  was  one  that 
well  harmonized  with  the  disposition  of  the  present  tenant.  It 
was  a  wild  tiger  reposing  in  his  native  jungle. 

After  Miss  Jane  had  made  an  elaborate  toilette,  she  told  me, 
as  a  great  favor,  she  would  allow  me  to  go  down  stairs,  or  walk 
through  the  halls  for  recreation,  as  she  had  no  further  use 
for  me. 

I  wandered  about,  passing  many  rooms,  all  numbered  in  gilt 
figures.  Tbe  most  of  them  had  their  doors  open,  and  I  amused 
myself  watching  the  different  expressions  of  face  and  manners 
of  their  occupants.  This  had  always  been  a  habit  of  mine,  for 
the  indulgence  of  which,  however,  I  had  had  but  little  oppor- 
tunity. 

I  strayed  on  till  I  reached  the  parlors,  and  they  burst  upon 
me  with  the  necromantic  power  of  Aladdin's  hall.  A  continuity 
of  four  apartments  rolled  away  into  a  seeming  mist,  and  the 
adroit  position  of  a  mirror  multiplied  their  number  and  added 
greatly  to  the  gorgeous  effect.  There  were  purple  and  golden 
curtains,  with  their  many  tinsel  ornaments  ;  carpets  of  the  gayest 
style,  from  the  richest  looms.  "Etruscan  vases,  quaint  and  old" 
adorned  the  mantel-shelf,  and  easy  divans  and  lounges  of  mosaic- 
velvet  were  ranged  tastefully  around.  An  arcade,  with  its  stately 
pillars,  divided  two  of  the  rooms,  and  the  inter-columniations 
were  ornamented  with  statues  and  statuettes ;  and  upon  a  marble 
table,  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the  apartments,  was  a  blooming 
magnolia,  the  first  one  I  had  ever  seen  !     That  strange  and 


THE    MAGNOLIA.  255 

mysterious  odor,  that,  like  a  fine,  inner,  sub-sense,  pervades  the 
nerve  with  a  quickening  power,  stole  over  me!  I  stood  before 
the  flower  in  a  sort  of  delicious,  delirious  joy.  There,  with  its 
huge  fan-like  leaves  of  green,  this  pure  white  blossom,  queen 
of  all  the  tribe  of  flowers,  shed  its  glorious  perfume  and  un- 
folded its  mysterious  beauty.  It  seemed  that  a  new  life  was 
opening  upon  me.  Surely,  I  said,  this  is  fairy  land.  For  more 
than  an  hour  I  lingered  beside  that  splendid  magnolia,  vainly 
essaying  to  drink  in  its  glory  and  its  mystery. 

Miss  Jane  and  Mr.  Summerville  had  gone  out  to  take  a  drive 
over  the  city,  and  I  was  comparatively  free,  in  their  absence,  to 
go  whithersoever  I  pleased. 

Whilst  I  still  loitered  near  the  flower,  a  very  sweet  but  manly 
voice  asked : 

"  Do  you  love  flowers  ?" 

I  turned  hastily,  and  to  my  surprise,  beheld  a  fine-looking 
gentleman  standing  in  close  contiguity  to  me.  With  pleasure 
I  think  now  of  his  broad,  open  face,  written  all  over  with  love 
and  kindness ;  his  deep,  fervid  blue  eye,  that  wore  such  a 
gentle  expression  ;  and  the  scant,  yet  fair  hair  that  rolled  away 
from  his  magnificent  forehead  !  He  appeared  to  be  slightly  up- 
wards of  fifty ;  but  1  am  sure  from  his  face,  that  those  fifty 
years  had  been  most  nobly  spent. 

I  trembled  as  I  replied  : 

"Yes,  I  am  very  fond  of  flowers." 

He  noticed  my  embarrassment,  and  smiled  most  benignantly. 

•'  Did  you  ever  see  a  magnolia  before  ?" 

"  Is  this  a  magnolia  ?"  I  inquired,  pointing  to  the  luxurious 
flower. 

"  Yes,  and  one  of  the  finest  I  ever  saw.  It  belongs  to  the 
South.  Are  you  sure  you  never  saw  one  before  ?"  He  fixed 
his  eyes  inquiringly  upon  me  as  I  answered : 

''Oh,  quite  sure,  sir;  I  never  was  ten  miles  from  my  master's 
farm  in  my  life." 

"You  are  a  slave?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  am." 


256  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

He  waited  a  moment,  then  said : 

"Are  you  happy  ?" 

I  dare-d  not  tell  a  falsehood,  yet  to  have  truly  stated  my  feel- 
ings, would  have  been  dangerous  ;  so  I  evasively  replied : 

"  Yes,  as  much  so  as  most  slaves." 

I  thought  I  heard  him  sigh,  as  he  slowly  moved  away. 

My  eyes  followed  him  with  inquiring  wonder.  Who  could 
he  be  ?  Certain  I  was  that  no  malice  had  prompted  the  ques- 
tion he  had  asked  me.  The  circumstance  created  anxiety  in 
my  mind.  All  that  day  as  I  walked  about,  or  waited  on  Miss  Jane, 
that  stranger's  faces  hone  like  a  new-risen  moon  upon  my  darken- 
ed heart.  Had  I  found,  accidentally,  one  of  those  Northern 
Abolitionists,  about  whom  I  had  heard  so  much  ?  Often  after 
when  sent  upon  errands  for  my  mistress,  I  met  him  in  the  halls, 
and  he  always  gave  me  a  kind  smile  and  a  friendly  salutation. 
Once  Miss  Jane  observed  this,  and  instantly  accused  me  of  hav- 
ing a  dishonorable  acquaintance  with  him.  My  honor  was  a 
thing  that  I  had  always  guarded  with  the  utmost  vigilance,  and 
to  such  a  serious  charge  I  perhaps  made  some  hasty  reply, 
whereupon  Miss  Jane  seized  a  riding-whip,  and  cut  me  most 
severely  across  the  face,  leaving  an  ugly  mark,  a  trace  of  which 
I  still  bear,  and  suppose  I  shall  carry  to  my  grave.  Mr.  Sum- 
merville  expostulated  with  his  wife,  saying  that  it  was  better  to 
use  gentle  means  at  first. 

"No,  husband,"  (she  always  thus  addressed  him,)  ''I  know 
more  about  the  management  of  niggers  than  you  do." 

This  gross  pronunciation  of  the  word  negro  has  a  popular 
use  even  among  the  upper  and  educated  classes  of  Ken- 
tucky. I  am  at  a  loss  to  account  for  it,  in  any  other  way 
than  by  supposing  that  they  use  it  to  express  their  deepest 
contempt. 

Mr.  Summerville  was  rather  disposed  to  be  humane  to  his  ser- 
vants. He  was  no  advocate  of  the  rod;  he  used  to  term  it 
the  relic  of  barbarism.  He  preferred  selling  a  refractory  ser- 
vant to  whipping  him.  This  did  not  accord  particularly 
well  with  Miss  Jane's  views,  and  the  consequence  was  they 


THE    NEW    ACQUAINTANCE.  25? 

had  many  a  little  private  argument  that  did  not  promise  to  end 
well. 

Miss  Jane  made  many  acquaintances  among  the  boarders  in 
the  hotel,  with  whom  she  was  much  pleased.  She  had  frequent 
invitations  to  attend  the  theatre,  concerts,  and  even  parties. 
Many  of  the  fashionables  of  the  city  called  upon  her,  offering, 
in  true  Kentucky  style,  the  hospitalities  of  their  mansions.  With 
this  she  was  quite  delighted,  and  her  neAV  life  became  one  of  in- 
tense interest  and  gratification,  as  her  letters  to  her  sister 
proved. 

She  would  often  regret  Tildy  was  not  there  to  share  in  her 
delight ;  but  it  had  been  considered  best  for  her  to  remain  at 
the  old  homestead  until  some  arrangement  could  be  made  about 
the  division  of  the  estate.  Two  of  the  neighbors,  a  gentleman 
and  his  wife,  took  up  their  abode  with  her  ;  but  she  expected  to 
visit  the  city  so  soon  as  Miss  Jane  went  to  house-keeping, 
which  would  be  in  a  few  months.  Miss  Jane  was  frequently  out 
spending  social  days  and  evenings  with  her  friends,  thus  giving 
me  the  opportunity  of  going  about  more  than  I  had  ever  done 
through  the  house.  In  this  way  I  formed  a  pleasant  acquaintance 
with  several  of  the  chambermaids,  colored  girls  and  free.  Friend- 
ships thus  grew  up  which  have  lasted  ever  since,  and  will  con- 
tinue, I  trust,  until  death  closes  over  us.  One  of  the  girls, 
Louise,  a  half-breed,  was  an  especial  favorite.  She  had  read 
some,  and  was  tolerably  well  educated.  From  her  I  often  bor- 
rowed interesting  books,  compends  of  history,  bible-stories, 
poems,  &c.  I  also  became  a  furious  reader  of  newspapers,  thus 
picking  up,  occasionally,  much  useful  information.  Louise  in- 
troduced me,  formally,  to  the  head  steward,  an  intelligent  mu- 
latto man,  named  Henry,  of  most  prepossessing  appearance  ;  but 
the  shadow  of  a  great  grief  lurked  in  the  full  look  of  his  large 
dark  eye  !  "I  am  a  slave,  God  help  me!"  seemed  stamped 
upon  his  face ;  'twas  but  seldom  that  I  saw  him  smile,  and  then 
it  was  so  like  the  reflection  of  a  tear,  that  it  pained  me  full  as 
much  as  his  sigh.  He  had  access  to  the  gentlemen's  read- 
ing-room ;    and  through   him   I  often  had    the  opportunity  of 


258  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

reading  the  leading  Anti-slavery  journals.  With  what  avidity 
I  devoured  them  !  How  full  they  were  of  the  noblest  philan- 
thropy !  Great  exponents  of  real  liberty  !  at  the  words  of  your 
argument  my  heart  leaped  like  a  new-fledged  bird  !  Still  pour 
forth  your  burning  eloquence ;  it  will  yet  blaze  like  a  watchfire 
on  the  Mount  of  Liberty  !  The  gladness,  the  hope,  the  faith  it 
imparted  to  my  long-bowed  heart,  would,  I  am  sure,  give  joy 
to  those  noble  leaders  of  the  great  cause. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 


THE    ARGUMENT. 


One  day,  when  Miss  Jane  and  Mr.  Snmmerville  had  gone 
out  at  an  early  hour  to  spend  the  entire  day,  I  little  knew  what 
to  do  with  myself  as  I  had  no  hooks  nor  papers  to  read,  and 
Louise  had  business  that  took  her  out  of  the  house. 

The  day  was  unusually  soft  and  pleasant.  I  wandered 
through  the  halls,  and,  drawing  near  a  private  gallery  that  ran 
along  in  front  of  the  gentlemen's  room,  I  paused  to  look  at  a 
large  picture  of  an  English  fox-chase,  that  adorned  the  wall. 
Whilst  examining  its  rare  and  peculiar  beauties,  my  ear  was 
pleasantly  struck  by  the  sound  of  a  much-esteemed  voice, 
saying— 

"  Well,  very  well  !  Let  us  take  seats  here,  in  this  retired 
place,  and  begin  the  conversation  Ave  have  been  threatening  so 
long." 

I  glanced  out  at  the  crevice  of  the  partially  open  door,  and 
distinctly  recognized  the  gentleman  who  had  spoken  to  me  of 
the  magnolia,  and  -who  (I  had  learned)  was  James  Trueman, 
of  Boston,  a  man  of  high  standing  and  social  position,  and  a 
successful  practitioner  of  law  in  his  native  State. 

The  other  was  a  gentleman  from  Virginia,  one  of  the  very 
first  families  (there  are  no  second,  I  believe),  by  the  name  of 
Winston,  a  man  reputed  of  very  vast  possessions,  a  land-holder, 
and  an  extensive  owner  of  slaves.  I  had  frequently  observed 
him  in  company  with  Mr.  Trueman,  and  had  inquired  of  Henry 
who  and  what  he  was. 

I  felt  a  little  reluctant  to  remain  in  my  position  and  hear  this 
conversation,  not  designed  for  me  ;  yet  a  singular  impulse  urged 

[259] 


260  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

me  to  remain.  I  felt  (and  I  scarce  know  why)  that  it  had  a 
bearing  upon  the  great  moral  and  social  question  that  so 
agitated  the  country.  Whilst  I  was  debating  with  myself 
about  the  propriety  of  a  retreat,  I  caught  a  few  words,  which 
determined  me  to  stay  and  hear  what  I  believed  would  prove 
an  interesting  discussion. 

"  Let  us,  my  dear  Mr.  Winston,"  began  Mr.  Trueman,  "  in- 
dulge for  a  few  moments  in  a  conversation  upon  this  momentous 
subject.  Both  of  us  have  passed  that  time  of  life  when  the 
ardor  and  impetuosity  of  youthful  blood  might  unfit  us  for  such 
a  discussion,  and  we  may  say  what  we  please  on  this  vexed 
question  with  the  distinct  understanding,  that  however  offensive 
our  language  may  become,  it  will  be  regarded  as  general,  neither 
meant  nor  understood  to  have  any  application  to  ourselves." 

"  I  am  quite  willing  and  ready  to  converse  as  you  propose,'' 
replied  the  other,  in  a  quick,  unpleasant  tone,  "  and  I  gladly 
accept  the  terms  suggested,  in  which  you  only  anticipate  my 
design.  It  is  well  to  agree  tipon  such  restraint ;  for  though,  as 
you  remind  me,  our  advancing  years  have  taken  much  of  the 
fervor  from  our  blood,  and  left  us  calm,  sober,  thoughtful  men, 
the  agitating  nature  of  the  subject  and  the  deep  interest  which 
both  of  us  feel  in  it,  should  put  us  on  our  guard.  If,  then, 
during  the  progress  of  the  conversation,  either  of  us  shall  be 
unduly  excited,  let  the  recollection  of  the  conditions  upon  which 
we  engage  in  it,  recall  him  to  his  accustomed  good-humor." 

"  Well,  we  have  settled  the  preliminaries  without  difficulty, 
and  to  mutual  satisfaction.  And  now,  the  way  being  clear,  our 
discussion  may  proceed.  I  assume,  then,  in  the  outset,  that  the 
institution  of  slavery,  as  it  exists  in  the  South,  is  a  monstrous 
evil.  I  assume  this  proposition  ;  not  alone  because  it  is  the 
universal  sentiment  of  the  '  rest  of  mankind  ;'  but  also,  because 
it  is  now  very  generally  conceded  by  slave-holders  themselves." 

"  Pray,  where  did  you  learn  that  slave-holders  ever  made  such 
a  concession  ?  As  to  what  may  be  the  sentiment  of  the  '  rest 
of  mankind,'  I  may  speak  by-and-bye.  For  the  present,  my 
concern  is  with  the  opinion  of  that  large  slave-holding  class  to 


THE     ARGUMENT.  261 

which  I  belong.  I  am  extensively  acquainted  among  them, 
and  if  that  is  their  opinion  of  our  peculiar  institution,  I  am  en- 
tirely ignorant  of  it." 

"  Your  ignorance,"  said  Mr.  Trueman,  with  a  smile,  "  in  that 
regard,  while  it  by  no  means  disproves  my  proposition,  may  be 
easily  explained.  With  your  neighbors,  who  feel  like  yourself 
the  dread  responsibility  of  this  crying  abomination,  it  is  not 
pleasant,  perhaps,  to  talk  upon  it,  and  you  avoid  doing  so  with- 
out the  slightest  trouble  ;  because  you  have  other  and  more 
engaging  topics,  such  as  the  condition  of  your  farms,  the  pros- 
pect of  fine  crops,  and  all  the  '  changes  of  the  varying  year.' 
But,  read  the  declarations  of  your  chosen  Representatives,  the 
favorite  sons  of  the  South,  in  the  high  councils  of  our  nation ; 
and  you  will  discover,  that  in  all  the  debates  involving  it, 
slavery,  in  itself,  and  in  its  consequences,  is  frankly  admitted  to 
be  a -tremendous  evil." 

"Onr  Representatives  may  have  sometimes  thought  proper 
to  make  such  an  admission  to  appease  the  fanaticism  of  North- 
ern Abolitionists,  and  to  quiet  the  agitations  of  the  country  in 
the  spirit  of  generous  compromise  :  but  /  am  not  bound  to  make 
it,  and  1  will  not  make  it.  Neither  do  I  avoid  conversations  with 
my  neighbors  upon  the  subject  of  slavery  from  the  motive  you 
intimate,  nor  from  any  other  motive.  I  have  frequently  talked 
with  them  upon  it,  boldly  and  candidly,  as  I  am  prepared  to 
talk  to  you  or  any  reasonable  man.  Your  proposition  I  posi- 
tively deny,  and  can  quickly  refute."  I  thought  there  was  a 
little  anger  in  the  tone  in  which  he  said  this ;  but  no  excitement 
was  discernible  in  the  clear,  calm  voice  with  which  Mr.  True- 
man  answered — 

"  Independently  of  the  admission  of  your  Representatives, 
which,  I  think,  ought  to  bind  you  (for  you  must  have  been 
aware  of  it,  and  since  it  was  public  and  undisputed,  your 
acquiescence  might  be  fairly  presumed),  there  are  many  con- 
siderations that  establish  the  truth  of  my  position.  But  I  can- 
not indorse  your  harsh  reflection  upon  the  Representatives  of 
your  choice.     I  cannot  believe  them  capable  of  admitting,  for 


262  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

any  purpose,  a  proposition  which,  in  their  opinion  and  that  of 
their  constituents,  asserts  a  falsehood.  The  immortal  Henry 
Clay  and  such  men  as  he  are  responsible  for  the  admission,  and 
not  one  of  them  was  ever  so  timid  as  to  be  under  the  dominion 
of  fear,  or  so  dishonest  as  to  be  hypocritical." 

A  moment's  pause  ensued,  when  Mr.  Winston  appeared  to 
rally,  and  said, 

"  I  do  not  understand,  then,  if  that  was  their  real  opinion, 
how  it  was  possible  for  them  to  continue  to  hold  slaves.  To 
say  the  least  of  it,  their  practice  was  not  in  accordance  with 
their  theory.  Hence  I  said,  that  under  certain  circumstances 
and  to  serve  a  special  purpose,  they  may  have  conceded  slav- 
ery to  be  an  evil.  For  my  own  part,  if  I  were  persuaded  that 
this  proposition  is  true,  it  would  constrain  me  to  liberate  all  my 
slaves,  whatever  may  be  my  attachment  to  them  or  the  loss  I 
should  necessarily  suffer.  Some  of  them  have  been  acquired 
by  purchase  ;  others  by  inheritance  :  all  of  them  seem  satisfied 
with  their  treatment  upon  my  estate  ;  yet  nothing  could  induce 
me  to  claim  the  property  I  have  hitherto  thought  I  possessed 
in  them,  when  convinced  of  the  evil  which  your  proposition 
asserts." 

"  Nothing  could  be  fairer,  my  dear  Mr.  "Winston.  Your  con- 
viction will  doubtless  subject  you  to  immense  sacrifices  :  but 
these  will  only  enhance  your  real  worth  as  a  man,  and  I  am 
sure  you  will  make  them  without  hesitation,  though  it  may  be, 
not  without  reluctance.  Now,  it  is  a  principle  of  law,  well 
settled,  that  no  person  can  in  any  manner  convey  a  title,  even 
to  those  things  which  are  property,  greater  than  that  which  he 
rightfully  possesses.  If,  for  instance,  I  acquire,  by  theft  or 
otherwise,  unlawful  possession  of  your  watch  or  other  articles  of 
value,  which  is  transferred,  by  the  operation  of  purchase  and 
sale,  through  many  hands,  your  right  never  ceases;  and  the 
process  of  law  will  enable  you  to  obtain  possession.  Each  in- 
dividual who  purchased  the  article,  may  have  his  remedy 
against  him  from  whom  he  procured  it,  however  extended  the 
series  of  purchasers  :  but,  since  whatever  right  any  one  of  them 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT.  263 

has  was  derived  originally  from  me,  and  since  my  unlawful 
acquisition  conferred  no  right  at  all,  it  follows  that  none  was 
transmitted.  Consequently,  you  were  not  divested,  and  the  just 
spirit  of  law,  continuing  to  recognize  your  property  in  the  arti- 
cle whenever  found,  provides  the  ready  means  whereby  you  may 
reduce  it  once  more  to  possession.  This  principle  of  law  is  not 
peculiar  to  a  single  locality ;  it  enters  into  the  remedial  code  of 
all  civilized  countries.  Its  benefits  are  accessible  to  the  free 
negro  in  this  land  of  the  dark  Southern  border  ;  and,  I  trust,  it 
will  not  be  long  before  those  who  are  now  held  in  slavery  may 
be  embraced  in  its  beneficent  operation.  Whether  it  is  recog- 
nized internationally,  I  am  not  fully  prepared  to  say  ;  but  it 
ought  to  be,  if  it  is  not,  for  it  is  the  dictate  of  equity  and  com- 
mon seuse.  But,  upon  the  hypothesis  that  it  is  so  recognized, 
if  the  property  of  an  inhabitant  of  Africa  were  stolen  from  him 
by  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  he  might  recover  it.  As  for 
those  people  who,  in  the  Southern  States,  are  held  as  slaves, 
they  or  their  ancestors  came  here  originally  not  by  their  own 
choice,  but  by  compulsion,  from  distant  Africa.  You  will  hardly 
deny,  I  presume,  what  is,  historically,  so  evident — that  "they 
were  captured,"  as  the  phrase  is,  or,  in  our  honest  vernacular, 
stolen  and  brought  by  violence  from  their  native  homes.  Had 
they  been  the  proper  subjects  of  property,  what  could  prevent 
the  application  of  the  principle  I  have  quoted  ?" 

After  two  or  three  hems  and  haws,  Mr.  Winston  began  : 
"  I  have  never  inquired  particularly  into  the  matter  ;  but  have 
always  entertained  the  impression  which  pervades  the  Southern 
mind,  that  our  negroes  are  legitimately  our  slaves,  in  pursuance 
of  the  malediction  denounced  by  God  against  Ham  and  his  de- 
scendants, of  whom  they  are  a  part.  And,  so  thinking,  I  be- 
lieved we  were  entitled  to  the  same  right  to  them  which  we 
exercise  over  the  beasts  of  the  field,  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and 
the  fishes  of  the  deep.  Moreover,  your  principle  of  law,  which 
is  indeed  very  correct,  is  inapplicable  to  their  case.  There  is 
also  a  principle  in  the  law  of  my  State,  incapacitating  slaves  to 
hold  property.     They  are  property  themselves  ;   and  property 


264         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

cannot  hold  property.  Apart  from  the  terrible  curse,  which 
doomed  them  in  the  beginning,  they  were  slaves  in  their 
own  country  to  men  of  their  own  race ;  slaves  by  right  of  con- 
quest. Therefore,  taking  the  instance  you  have  suggested,  by 
way  of  illustration,  were  any  article  of  value  wrested  from 
their  possession,  under  this  additional  principle,  the  law  could 
not  give  them  any  redress.  But,  inasmuch  as  whatever  they 
may  acquire  becomes  immediately  the  property  of  their  master, 
to  him  the  law  will  furnish  a  remedy." 

"  You  do  not  deny,"  and  here  Mr.  Trueman's  tone  was  ele- 
vated and  a  little  excited,  "  that  the  first  of  those  who  reached 
this  country  were  stolen  in  Africa.  Now,  for  the  sake  of  the 
argument  merely,  I  will  admit  that  they  were  slaves  at 
home.  If  they  were  slaves  at  home — it  matters  not  wheth- 
er by  '.  right  or  conquest,'  or  '  in  pursuance  of  the  curse,' 
they  must  have  been  the  property  of  somebody,  and  those 
who  stole  them  and  sold  them  into  bondage  in  America 
could  give  no  valid  title  to  their  purchasers ;  for  by  the 
theft  they  had  acquired  none  themselves.  Hence,  if  ever  they 
were  slaves,  they  are  still  the  property  of  their  masters  in 
Africa ;  but,  if  your  interpretation  of  "  the  curse  "  is  correct, 
those  masters  were  also  slaves,  and,  being  such,  under  the 
principle  of  law  which  you  have  quoted,  they  could  not  for  this 
reason  hold  property.  Therefore,  those  oppressed  and  out- 
raged, though  benighted  people,  who  were  first  sold  into 
slavery,  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  our  land,  were,  in  sheer  jus- 
tice, either  free,  or  the  property — even  after  the  sale — of  their 
African  masters,  if  they  had  any  ;  in  neither  case  could  they 
belong  to  those  of  our  citizens  who  were  unfortunate  enough  to 
buy  them.  They  were  not  slaves  of  African  masters  :  for,  ac- 
cording to  your  argument,  all  of  the  race  are  slaves,  and 
slaves  cannot  own  slaves  any  more  than  horses  can  own  horses ; 
therefore,  since  no  other  people  claimed  dominion  over  them, 
they  were,  necessarily,  free.  You  cannot  escape  from  this 
dilemma,  and  the  choice  of  either  horn  is  fatal  to  your  cause. 
Being  free,  might  they  not  have  held  property  like  other  na- 


THE    ARGUMENT.  265 

tious  ?  And,  had  any  of  it  been  stolen  from  them  by  those 
who  are  amenable  to  our  laws,  would  not  consistency  compel 
us,  who  recognize  the  just  principle  I  have  quoted,  to  restore  it 
to  them  ?  This  is  the  course  pursued  among  ourselves  ;  and  it 
ceases  not  with  restoration  ;  but  on  the  offender  it  proceeds  to 
inflict  punishment,  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  the  offence.  This 
is  the  course  we  should  pursue  toward  that  down-trodden  race 
whose  greatest  guilt  is  '  a  skin  not  colored  like  our  own.' 

"As  the  case  stands,  it  is  not  a  question  of  property,  but  of  that 
more  valuable  and  sacred  right,  the  right  of  personal  liberty,  of 
which  we  now  boast  so  loudly.  What,  in  the  estimation  of  the 
world,  is  the  worth  of  those  multitudinous  orations,  apostrophies 
to  liberty,  which,  on  each  recurring  Fourth  of  July,  in  whatever 
quarter  of  the  globe  Americans  may  be  assembled,  penetrate 
the  public  ear  ?  What  are  they  worth  to  us,  if,  while  remind- 
ing us  of  early  colonial  and  revolutionary  struggles  against  the 
galling  tyranny  of  the  British  crown,  they  fail  to  inculcate  the 
easy  lesson  of  respect  for  the  rights  of  all  mankind  ?  In  keep- 
ing those  poor  Africans  in  the  South  still  enslaved,  you  practi- 
cally ignore  this  lesson,  and  you  trample  with  unholy  feet  that 
divine  ordinance  which  commands  you  '  to  do  unto  others  as 
you  would  have  others  do  unto  you.'  By  the  oppression  to 
which  we  were  subjected  under  the  yoke  of  Britain,  and  against 
which  we  wrestled  so  long,  so  patiently,  so  vigorously,  in  so 
many  ways,  and  at  last  so  triumphantly,  I  adjure  you  to  put 
an  end,  at  once  and  forever,  to  this  business  of  holding  slaves. 
This  is  oppression  indeed,  in  comparison  with  which,  that  which 
drew  forth  our  angry  and  bitter  complaints,  was  very  freedom. 
Let  us,  instead  of  perpetuating  this  infamous  institution,  be  true 
to  ourselves  ;  let  us  vindicate  the  pretensions  we  set  up  when 
we  characterize  ours  as  '  the  land  of  liberty,  the  asylum  of  the 
oppressed,'  by  proclaiming  to  the  nations  of  the  earth  that,  so 
soon  as  a  slave  touches  the  soil  of  America,  his  manacles  shall 
fall  from  him  :  let  us  verify  the  words  engraven  in  enduring 
brass  on  the  old  bell  which  from  the  tower  of  Independence 
Hall  rang  out  our  glorious  Declaration,  and  in  deed  and  in  truth 
12 


266  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

proclaim  '  Liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the  opening  of  the  prison 
doors  to  them  that  are  bound.'  As  you  value  truth,  honor, 
justice,  consistency,  aye,  humanity  even,  wipe  out  the  black 
blot  which  defiles  the  border  of  our  escutcheon,  and  the  coun- 
try will  then  be  in  reality  what  is  now  only  in  name,  a  free 
country,  loving  liberty  disinterestedly  for  its  own  sake,  and  for 
that  of  all  people,  and  nations,  and  tribes,  and  tongues. 

"  You  may  still,  if  you  choose,  dispute  and  philosophize  about 
the  inequality  of  races,  and  continue  to  insist  on  the  boasted 
superiority  of  our  Caucasian  blood  ;  but  the  greatest  disadvan- 
tages which  a  comparison  can  indicate  will  not  prove  that  one's 
claim  to  liberty  is  higher  than  another's.  It  may  be  that  we 
of  the  white  race,  are  vastly  superior  to  our  African  brethren. 
The  differences,  however,  are  not  flattering  to  us  ;  for  we  should 
remember  with  shame  and  confusion  of  face,  that  our  injustice 
and  cruelty  have  produced  them.  Having  first  enslaved  the 
poor  Africans  and  subsequently  withheld  from  them  every 
means  of  improvement,  it  is  not  strange  that  such  differences 
should  exist  as  those  on  which  we  plume  ourselves.  But  is  it 
not  intolerable  that  we  should  now  quote  them  with  such  brazen 
self-gratulation  % 

"  Despite  the  manifold  disadvantages  that  encumber  and  clog 
the  movements  of  the  Africans,  unfortunately  for  the  validity 
of  your  argument  their  race  exhibits  many  proud  specimens 
to  prove  their  capability  of  culture,  and  of  the  enjoyment  of 
freedom.  Give  them  but  the  same  opportunities  that  we  have, 
and  they  will  rival  us  in  learning,  refinement,  statesmanship, 
and  general  demeanor,  as  is  incontestibly  shown  in  the  lives 
and  characters  of  many  now  living.  Such  men  as  Fred  Douglas 
and  President  Roberts,  would  honor  any  complexion  ;  or,  1 
ought  rather  to  say,  should  make  us  forget  and  despise  the  dis- 
tinctions of  color,  since  they  reach  not  below  the  surface  of  the 
skin,  nor  affect,  in  the  least,  that  better  part  that  gives  to  man 
all  his  dignity  and  worth.  ISTor  need  I  point  to  these  illustrious 
examples  to  rebut  the  inferences  you  deduce  from  color.  Every 
village  and  hamlet  in  your  own  sunny  South,  can  furnish  an 


INTEREST    OF    THE    ARGUMENT.  267 

abundant  refutation,  in  its  obscure  but  eloquent  '  colored 
preacbers' — noble  patterns  of  industry  and  wisdom,  who  show 
forth,  by  their  exemplary  bearing,  all  the  beauty  of  holiness, — 
'  allure  to  brighter  worlds  and  lead  the  way.'  " 

It  is  impossible  to  furnish  even  the  faintest  description  of  the 
pleading  earnestness  of  the  speaker's  tone.  His  full,  round, 
rich  voice,  grew  intense,  low  and  silvery  in  its  harmonious  utter- 
ance. As  he  pronounced  the  last  sentence,  it  was  with  difficulty 
I  could  repress  a  cry  of  applause.  Oh,  surely,  surely,  I 
thought,  our  cause,  the  African's  cause,  is  not  helpless,  is  not 
lost,  whilst  it  still  possesses  such  an  advocate.  My  eyes  over- 
flowed with  grateful  tears,  and  I  longed  to  kiss  the  hem  of  his 
garment. 

"You  forget,"  answered  Mr.  Winston,  "  or  you  would  do  well 
to  consider,  that  these  cases  are  exceptional  cases,  which  neither 
preclude  my  inferences  nor  warrant  your  assumption." 

"  Exceptions,  indeed,  they  are ;  but  why  1"  inquired  Mr. 
Trueman.  "  Exceptions,  you  know,  prove  the  rule .  Now,  you 
infer  from  the  sooty  complexion  of  the  Africans,  a  natural  and 
necessary  incapacity  for  the  blessings  of  self-government  and 
the  refinements  of  education.  I  have  mentioned  individuals  of 
this  fatal  complexion  who  are  in  the  wise  enjoyment  of  these 
sublime  privileges  :  one  of  them  has  acquired  an  enviable 
celebrity  as  an  orator,  the  other  is  the  accomplished  President 
of  the  infant  Liberian  Republic.  If  color  incapacitated,  as  you 
seem  to  think,  it  would  affect  all  alike ;  but  it  has  not  incapaci- 
tated these,  therefore  it  does  not  incapacitate  at  all.  These  are 
exceptions  not  to  the  general  capacity  of  the  blacks  ,  but  only 
to  their  general  opportunity.  What  they  have  done  others 
may  do — the  opportunities  being  equal." 

"  I  have  listened  to  you  entire  argument,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Winston,  "  very  patiently,  with  the  expectation  of  hearing  the 
proposition  sustained  with  which  you  so  vauntingly  set  out. 
You  will,  perhaps,  accord  to  me  the  credit  of  being — what  in  this 
age  of  ceaseless  talk  is  rarely  met — '  a  good  listener.'  But,  after 
all  my  patience  and  attention,  I  am  still  unsatisfied — if  not  un- 


268  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

shaken.  You  have  failed  to  meet  the  argument  drawn  from 
the  '  curse'  pronounced  on  the  progenitors  of  the  unfortunate 
race  :  you  have  failed  to  present  or  notice  what  is  generally 
considered  by  theologians  and  moralists  the  right  of  a 
purchaser — in  your  illustration  from  stolen  goods — to  something 
for  the  money  with  which  he  parts  ;  and  here,  I  think,  you 
manifested  great  unfairness ;  and,  above  all,  you  have  failed  to 
propose  any  feasible  remedy  for  the  state  of  things  against 
which  you  inveigh.  What  have  you  to  say  on  these  material 
points  ?" 

"Very  much,  my  good  sir,  as  you  will  find,  if,  instead  of 
taking  advantage  of  every  momentary  pause  to  make  out  such 
a  '  failure'  as  you  desire,  you  only  prolong  your  very  compli- 
mentary patience.  I  wish  you  to  watch  the  argument  narrowly; 
to  expose  the  faintest  flaw  you  can  detect  in  it ;  and,  at  the 
end,  if  unsatisfied,  cry  out  '  failure,'  or  let  it  wring  from  you  a 
reluctant  confession.  You  will,  at  least,  before  I  shall  have 
done,  withdraw  the  illiberal  imputation  of  unfairness.  Tt  would 
be  an  easy  task  for  me  to  anticipate  all  you  can  say,  and  to  re- 
fute it  ;  but  such  a  course  would  leave  you  nothing  to  say,  and, 
since  I  intend  this  discussion  to  be  strictly  a  conversation,  I 
shall  leave  you  at  liberty  to  present  your  own  arguments  in 
your  own  way.  Now,  as  to  the  argument  from  '  the  curse,'  you 
must  permit  me  to  observe,  that  your  interpretation  is  too  free 
and  latitudinarian.  Mine  is  more  literal,  more  in  accordance 
with  the  character  of  God ;  it  fully  satisfies  the  Divine 
vengeance,  and,  whether  correct  or  not,  has,  at  least,  as  much 
authority  in  its  favor.  Granting  the  dominion  of  the  white  over 
the  black  race  to  be  in  virtue  of  '  the  curse,'  it  by  no  means 
conveys  such  power  as  your  Southern  institution  seeks  to  justify. 
The  word  slave  nowhere  occurs  in  that  memorable  maledic- 
tion ;  but  there  is  an  obvious  distinction  between  its  import  and 
that  of  the  word  servant,  which  it  does  employ.  Surely,  for 
the  offence  of  looking  upon  the  nakedness  of  his  father,  Ham 
could  not  have  incurred  and  entailed  upon  his  posterity  a 
heavier  punishment  than  they  would  necessarily  suffer  as  the 


INTEREST  OF  THE  ARGUMENT.  269 

simple  servants  of  their  brethren.  And  this  consideration 
should  induce  you  to  give  them,  at  least,  the  same  share  of 
freedom  as  is  enjoyed  by  the  white  servants  to  be  found  in  many 
a  household  in  the  South  Such  servitude  would  be  the  utmost 
that  a  merciful  God  could  require.  Even  this,  however,  was 
under  the  old  dispensation :  and  the  reign  of  its  laws,  customs, 
and  punishments,  should  melt  under  the  genial  rays  of  the  sun 
of  Christianity.  Many  of  your  own  patriots,  headed  by  Wash- 
ington and  Jefferson,  have  long  since  thought  so  ;  and  but  few 
in  tbese  days  plead  'the  curse'  as  excuse  or  justification  for  that 
'  damned  spot'  which  all  will  come  ultimately  to  consider  the 
disgrace  of  this  enlightened  age  and  nation.  As  to  your  next 
point,  the  right  which  a  purchaser  of  stolen  goods  may  acquire 
in  them  in  consideration  of  the  money  which  he  pays,  I  grant 
all  the  benefit  that  even  the  most  generous  theologian  or  moral- 
ist can  allow  in  the  best  circumstances  of  such  a  case.  And 
what  does  this  amount  to  ?  A  return  of  the  purchase-money, 
with  a  reasonable  or  very  high  rate  of  interest  for  the  detention, 
would  be  as  much  as  any  one  could  demand.  Applying  this  to 
the  case  of  the  stolen  Africans,  how  many  of  those  who  were 
forced  from  their  native  land  to  this  have  died  on  their  master's 
hands  without  yielding  by  their  labor,  not  alone  the  principal; 
but  a  handsome  percentage  upon  the  money  invested  in  their 
purchase  1  Thus  purchasers  were  indemnified — abundantly 
indemnified,  against  loss.  The  indemnity,  however,  should  have 
been  sought  from  the  seller,  not  from  the  article  or  person  sold. 
But,  at  best,  purchasers  of  stolen  goods,  to  entitle  themselves 
to  any  indemnity,  should  at  least  be  innocent ;  for  if  they 
buy  such  goods,  knowing  them  to  be  stolen,  they  are  guilty 
of  a  serious  misdemeanor,  which  is  everywhere  punishable 
under  the  law.  '  He  who  asks  equity  must  do  equity.' 
"When,  therefore,  you  of  the  South  would  realize  the  benefit  of 
the  concession  of  theologians  and  moralists— the  benefit  of  jus- 
tice— you  should  bring  yourselves  within  the  conditions  they 
require ;  you  should  come  into  court  with  clean  hands,  and 
with  the  intention  of  acting  in  good  faith.     Have  you  done  so  ? 


270  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Did  your  fathers  do  so  before  you  ?  Not  at  all.  Tliey  were  not 
ignorant  purchasers  of  the  poor,  ravished  African ;  they  knew 
full  well  that  he  had  been  stolen  and  brought  by  violence  from 
his  distant  home  :  consequently,  they  were  guilty  of  a  misde- 
meanor in  purchasing  ;  consequently,  too,  they  come  not  within 
the  case  proposed  by  the  theologians  and  moralists,  which  might 
entitle  them  to  indemnity  ;  nor  were  they  in  a  condition  to 
ask  it.  The  present  generation,  claiming  through  them,  find 
themselves  in  the  same  predicament,  with  the  same  title  only, 
and  the  same  unclean  hands,  perpetuating  their  foul  oppression. 
None  of  them,  as  I  have  shown,  had  a  right  to  claim  indemnity 
by  reason  of  having  invested  their  money  in  that  way ;  and,  if 
they  ever  had  such  right,  they  have  been  richly  indemnified 
already.  Therefore,  it  is  absurd  for  you  to  continue  the  slave 
business  upon  this  plea.  Having  thus  answered  your  only  ob- 
jections to  my  position,  I  might  remind  you  of  your  determina- 
tion, and  call  upon  you  to  '  liberate  your  slaves,'  and  take  sides 
with  me  in  opposition  to  the  cruel  institution.  You  are  greatly 
mistaken  in  supposing  that  my  omission  to  propose  a  plan,  by 
which  slave-holders  could  conveniently,  and  loithout  pecuniary 
loss,  emancipate  their  slaves,  constitutes  the  slightest  objection 
to  the  argument  I  have  advanced.  If  you  defer  their  emanci- 
pation until  such  a  plan  is  proposed  ;  if  you  are  unwilling  to 
incur  even  a  little  sacrifice,  what  nobility  will  there  be  in  the 
act,  to  entitle  you  to  the  consideration  of  the  just  and  good,  or 
to  the  approval  of  your  own  consciences  ?  I  sought  by  this 
discussion,  to  convince  you  that  slavery  is  an  enormous  evil ; 
the  proposition  was  declared  in  all  its  boldness.  You  volun- 
teered a  pledge  to  release  your  slaves  if  I  could  sustain  it,  let 
the  sacrifice  be  what  it  might.  Some  sacrifice,  then,  you  must 
have  anticipated  ;  and,  should  your  conviction  now  demand  it, 
you  have  no  cause  to  complain  of  me.  Your  pledge  was  alto- 
gether voluntary  ;  I  did  not  even  ask  it ;  nor  did  I  design  to 
suggest  any  such  plan  of  universal  emancipation  as  would  suit 
the  convenience  of  everybody.  I  am  not  so  extravagantly  silly 
as  to  hope    to  do    that.     But,  after   all,  why  wait   for  a  plan ? 


THE    ARGUMENT    CONTINUED.  271 

Immediate,  universal  emancipation  is  not  impracticable,  and 
numberless  methods  might  and  would  at  once  be  devised,  if 
the  people  of  your  States  were  sincere  when  they  profess  to 
desire  its  accomplishment.  Their  real  wish,  however,  whatever 
it  may  be,  need  not  interfere  between  your  individual  pledge, 
and  its  prompt  fulfilment." 

Mr.  Trueman  paused  for  full  five  minutes,  and,  as  I  peered 
out  from  my  hiding-place,  I  thought  there  was  a  very  quizzical 
sort  of  expression  on  his  fine  face. 

"  Well,  what  have  you  to  say  1"  he  at  length  asked. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  Mr.  Winston  began,  in  an  angry  tone, 
"you  speak  very  flippantly  and  very  wildly  about  general  eman- 
cipation. Consider,  sir,  that  slavery  is  so  woven  into  our  society, 
that  there  is  scarcely  a  family  that  would  not  be  more  or  less 
affected  by  a  change.  Fundamental  alterations  in  society,  to  be 
safely  made,  must  be  the  slow  work  of  years  : 

'  Not  the  hasty  product  of  a  day, 
But  the  well-ripened  fruit  of  wise  delay.' 

So  it  is  only  by  almost  imperceptible  degrees  that  the  emancipa- 
tionists and  impertinent  Abolitionists  can  ever  attain  '  the  con- 
summation '  they  pretend  to  have  so  much  at  heart.  If  they 
would  just  stay  at  home  and  devote  their  spare  time  to  cleansing 
their  own  garments,  leaving  us  of  the  South  to  suffer  alone  what 
they  are  pleased  to  esteem  the  evil  and  sin  and  curse,  the  shame, 
burden  and  abomination  of  slavery,  we  should  the  sooner  dis- 
cover its  blasting  enormities,  and  strive  more  zealously  to  abol- 
ish them  and  the  institution  from  which  they  proceed.  Their 
super-serviceable  interference,  hitherto,  has  only  riveted  and 
tightened  the  bondage  of  those  with  whom  they  sympathize ; 
and  such  a  result  will  always  attend  it.  Our  slaves,  as  at  present 
situated,  are  very  well  satisfied,  as,  indeed,  they  ought  to  be  : 
for  they  are  exempt  from  the  anxious  cares  of  the  free,  as  to 
what  they  shall  eat  or  what  they  shall  drink,  or  wherewithal 
they  shall  be  clothed.  Many  poor  men  of  our  own  color  would 
gladly  exchange  conditions  with  them,  because  they  find  life  to 


272         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

be  a  hard,  an  incessant  struggle  for  the  scantiest  comforts,  with 
which  our  slaves  are  supplied  at  no  cost  of  personal  solicitude. 
Besides,  sir,  our  institution  of  slavery  is  vastly  more  burdensome 
to  ourselves  than  to  the  negroes  for  whom  you  affect  so  much 
fraternal  love." 

"  One  would  suppose,  that  if  you  thought  it  burdensome,  you 
would  be  making  some  effort  to  relieve  yourselves,"  interposed 
Mr.  Trueman,  in  that  clear  and  pointed  manner  that  was  his 
peculiarity ;  "  and,  if  immediate  emancipation  were  deemed  im- 
practicable in  consequence  of  the  radical  hold  which  this  insti- 
tution has  at  the  South,  you  might  naturally  be  expected  to  be 
doing  something  toward  that  end  by  the  encouragement  of  edu- 
cation among  those  in  bondage,  by  the  sanction  of  marriage  ties 
between  them,  and  by  other  efforts  to  ameliorate  their  condition. 
Certain  inducements  might  be  presented  for  the  manumission  of 
slaves  by  individual  owners,  for  there  are  some  of  this  class,  I 
am  happy  to  think,  wbo,  in  tender  humanity,  would  release 
their  slaves,  if  the  stringency  of  the  laws  did  not  deter  them 
from  it.  Would  it  not  be  well  to  abate  somewhat  of  this  rigor, 
and  allow  all  slaves,  voluntarily  manumitted,  to  remain  in  the 
several  States  with  at  least  the  privileges  of  the  free  negroes 
now  resident  therein,  so  that  the  olden  ties,  which  have  grown 
up  between  themselves  and  their  owners,  might  not  be  abruptly 
snapped  asunder  ?  Besides,  to  enforce  the  propriety  of  this 
alteration  of  the  law,  it  would  be  well  to  reflect  that  the  South 
is  the  native  home  of  most  of  the  slaves,  who  cherish  their  local 
attachments  quite  as  much  as  ourselves  ;  and  hence  the  law 
which  now  requires  them,  when  by  any  means  they  have  ob- 
tained their  freedom,  to  remove  beyond  the  limits  of  the  State, 
is  a  very  serious  hardship  and  should  cease  to  exist.  This 
would  be  a  long  stride  toward  your  own  relief  from  the  burden 
of  which  you  complain.  As  to  the  slaves,  who  you  think  should 
be  content  with  their  condition,  in  which  they  have,  as  yoii  say, 
'  no  care  for  necessary  food  and  raiment,'  I  would  suggest  that 
they  have  the  faculty  of  distinguishing  between  slavery  and 
bondage,  and  have  sense  enough  to  see  that  though  these  things, 


THE    ARGUMENT.  273 

which  are  generally  of  the  coarsest  kind,  are  provided  by  their 
masters,  the  means  by  which  they  are  furnished  are  but  a  scanty 
portion  of  their  own  hard  earnings.  "Were  they  free,  they  could 
work  in  the  same  way,  and  be  entitled  to  all  the  fruits  of  their 
labor.  Then  they  would  have  the  same  inducements  to  toil 
that  we  now  have,  and  the  same  ambition  to  lift  themselves 
higher  and  higher  in  the  social  scale.  Those  white  men  whom 
you  believe  willing'  to  exchange  situations  with  them,  are  too 
indolent  to  enjoy  the  privileges  of  freedom,  and  would  be  utterly 
worthless  as  slaves.  You  declaim  against  the  course  which  the 
Abolitiouists  have  pursued,  and  seem  disposed,  in  consequence, 
to  tighten  the  cords  of  servitude.  You  would  be  let  alone,  for- 
sooth, to  bear  this  burden  as  long  as  you  please,  and  to  get  rid 
of  it  at  pleasure.  So  long  as  there  was  any  hope  that  you 
would  do  what  you  ought  in  the  matter,  you  were  let  alone,  and 
if  you  were  the  only  sufferers  from  your  peculiar  institution, 
you  might  continue  undisturbed ;  but  the  yoke  lies  heavy  and 
galling  upon  the  poor  slaves  themselves,  whose  voices  are  stifled, 
and  it  is  high  time  for  the  friends  of  human  rights  to  speak  in 
their  behalf,  till  they  make  themselves  heard.  At  this  momen- 
tous period,  when  new  States  and  Territories  are  knocking  for 
admission  at  the  doors  of  our  Union — States  and  Territories  of 
free  and  virgin  soil,  which  you  are  seeking  to  defile  by  the 
introduction  of  slavery — it  is  fit  that  they  should  persevere  in 
their  noble  efforts,  that  they  should  resist  your  endeavors,  and 
strive  with  all  their  energies  to  confine  the  obnoxious  insti- 
tution within  its  already  too-extended  bounds ;  for  they  know, 
that,  if  they  would  attain  their  object — the  ultimate  and  entire 
abolition  of  slavery  from  our  land — they  should  oppose  strenu- 
ously every  movement  tending  to  its  extension  ;  for,  the  broader 
the  surface  over  which  it  spreads,  the  more  formidable  will  be 
the  difficulty  of  its  removal.  Therefore  it  is  that  they  are  now 
so  zealously  engaged,  and  they  address  you  as  men  whose 
'judgment  has  not  fled  to  brutish  beasts,'  with  arguments 
against  the  evil  itself  and  the  weight  of  anguish  it  entails. 
Thus  they  have  ever  done,  and  you  tell  me  that  the  result  has 
12* 


274  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

been  to  rivet  the  chains  of  those  in  whose  behalf  they  plead. 
As  well  might  the  sinner,  whose  guilt  is  pointed  out  to  him  by 
the  minister  of  God,  resolve  for  that  very  reason  to  plunge  more 
deeply  into  sin." 

His  voice  became  gradually  calmer  and  calmer,  until  finally 
it  sank  into  the  low  notes  of  a  solemn  half-whisper.  I  held  my 
breath  in  intense  excitement,  but  this  transport  was  broken  by 
the  harsh  tones  of  the  Virginian,  who  said  : 

"  All  this  is  very  ridiculous  as  well  as  unjust ;  for,  at  the  South 
slaves  are  regarded  as  property,  and,  inasmuch  as  our  territories 
are  acquired  by  the  common  blood  and  treasure  of  the  whole 
country,  we  have  as  much  right  to  locate  in  them  with  our  prop- 
erty as  you  have  with  any  of  those  things  which  are  recognized 
as  property  at  the  North.  In  your  great  love  of  human  rights 
you  might  take  some  thought  of  us  ;  but  the  secret  of  your 
action  is  jealousy  of  our  advancement  by  the  aid  of  slave-labor, 
which  you  would  have  at  the  North  if  you  needed  it.  We  un- 
derstand you  well,  and  we  are  heartily  tired  of  your  insulting 
and  impudent  cant  about  the  evils  of  the  system  of  slavery.  We 
want  no  more  of  it." 

Mr.  Trueman,  without  noticing  the  insolence  of  Winston,  con- 
tinued in  the  same  impressive  manner  : 

"  We  do  take  much  thought  of  you  at  the  South,  and  hence 
it  is  that  we  dislike  to  see  you  passively  submitting  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  an  institution  so  fraught  with  evil  in  itself,  and  very 
burdensome,  as  even  you  have  admitted.  We,  of  the  North, 
feel  strongly  bound  to  you  by  the  recollection  of  common  dan- 
gers, struggles  and  trials  ;  and,  with  an  honorable  pride,  we 
wish  our  whole  nation  to  stand  fair,  and,  so  far  as  possible,  blame- 
less before  the  world.  We  are  doing  all  we  can  to  remove  the 
evils  of  every  kind  which  exist  at  the  North ;  and,  as  we  are 
not  sectional  in  our  purposes,  we  would  stimulate  you  to  neces- 
sary action  in  regard  to  your  especial  system.  We  know  its 
evils  from  sore  experience,  for  it  once  prevailed  amongst  us ; 
but,  fortunately,  we  opened  our  eyes,  and  gave  ourselves  a 
blessed  riddance  of  it.     The  example  is  well  worthy  of  your 


FORCE    OF    THE    ARGUMENT.  275 

imitation,  but,  'pleased  as  you  are  with  the  possession,  says 
Blackstone,  speaking  of  the  origin  and  growth  of  property, 
'  you  seem  afraid  to  look  back  to  the  means  by  which  it  was  ac- 
quired, as  if  fearful  of  some  defect  in  your  title  ;  or,  at  best, 
you  rest  satisfied  with  the  decision  of  the  laws  in  your  favor, 
without  examining  the  reason  or  authority  upon  which  those 
laws  have  been  built.'  To  the  eyes  of  the  nations,  who  regard 
us  from  far  across  the  ocean,  and  who  see  us,  as  a  body,  better 
than  we  see  ourselves,  slavery  is  the  great  blot  that  obscures  the 
disc  of  our  Republic,  dimming  the  effulgence  of  its  Southern 
half,  as  a  partial  eclipse  darkens  the  world's  glorious  luminary. 
It  is,  therefore,  not  alone  upon  the  score  of  human  rights  in 
general,  but  from  a  personal  interest  in  our  National  character, 
that  the  Abolitionists  interfere.  Various  Congressional  enact- 
ments have  confirmed  the  justice  of  these  views,  which  they 
are  endeavoring  to  enforce  by  moral  suasion  (for  they  deprecate 
violence)  upon  the  South.  Those  enactments  assume  jurisdic- 
tion, to  some  extent  at  least,  upon  the  subject  of  slavery,  having 
gone  so  far  as  to  prohibit  the  continuance  of  the  slave-trade, 
denouncing  it  as  piracy,  and  punishing  with  death  those  who 
are  in  any  way  engaged  in  it.  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  the 
South  has  ever  protested  against  this  law,  in  which  the  Aboli- 
tionists see  a  strong  confirmation  of  their  own  just  principles. 
Why  should  they  not  go  a  step  further,  and  forbid  all  traffic  in 
slaves,  such  as  is  pursued  among  your  people  ?  Why  do  not  the 
States  themselves  interpose  their  power  to  put  down  at  once 
and  forever,  such  nefarious  business?  This  would  be  productive 
of  vastly  more  good  than  anything  which  Colonization  societies 
can  effect." 

"  Suppose,  sir,"  began  Mr.  Winston,  "  we  were  to  annul  the 
present  laws  regulating  the  manumission  of  slaves,  and  to 
abolish  the  institution  entirely  from  our  midst ;  where  would  be 
the  safety  of  our  own  white  race  ?  There  is  great  cause  for 
the  apprehension  generally  entertained,  of  perpetual  danger  and 
annoyance,  if  they  were  permitted  to  remain  among  us.  They 
are  there  in   large   numbers,  and,  having  once   obtained  their 


276  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

freedom,  with  permission  to  reside  where  they  now  are,  they 
would  seek  to  become  '  a  power  in  the  State,'  which  would  in- 
cite them,  if  resisted,  into  fearful  rebellion.  These  are  contin- 
gencies which  sagacious  statesmen  have  foreseen,  and  which 
they  would  be  unable  to  avert.  Consequently,  they  had  rather 
bear  those  ills  they  have,  than  fly  to  others  that  they  know  not 
of." 

''How  infelicitous,"  Mr.  Trueman  suddenly  retorted,  ''is  your 
quotation,  for,  truly,  you  '  know  not'  that  these  anticipated 
consequences  would  ensue  ;  but  '  motes  they  are  to  trouble 
the  mind's  eye.'  Your  sagacious  statesmen  might  more  wisely 
employ  their  thoughts  in  contemplating  the  more  probable  re- 
sults of  continuing  your  slaves  in  their  present  abject  condition. 
Ear  more  reason  is  there  to  apprehend  rebellion  and  insurrection 
now,  than  the  distant  dangers  you  predict.  Even  this  last  ob- 
jection is  vain,  unsubstantial,  and,  at  best,  only  speculative, 
resorted  to  as  an  unction  to  mollify  the  sores  of  conscience. 
Some  of  your  eminent  men  have  expressed  a  hope  that  the 
colored  race  might  be  removed  from  the  South,  and  from 
slavery,  through  the  instrumentality  of  Colonization,  by  which, 
it  is  expected,  that  they  would  eventually  be  transported  to 
Africa,  and  encouraged  to  establish  governments  for  them- 
selves. This  proposal  is  liable,  and  with  more  emphasis,  to  the 
objection  I  advanced  a  while  ago,  when  speaking  of  the  laws 
which  practically  discourage  manumission,  for,  if  it  is  a  hard- 
ship (as  I  contend  it  is)  for  them  to  be  driven  from  their  native 
State  to  one  strange  and  unfamiliar  to  them,  it  is  increasing 
that  severity  to  require  them  to  seek  a  home  in  Africa,  whose 
climate  is  as  uncongenial  to  them  as  to  us,  and  with  whose  in- 
stitutions they  feel  as  little  interest,  or  identity,  as  we  do. 
Admit,  for  a  moment,  the  practicability  of  such  a  scheme.  We 
should,  soon  after,  be  called  upon  to  recognize  them  as  one  of 
the  nations  of  the  earth,  with  whom  we  should  treat  as  we  dp 
now  with  the  English,  Erench,  German,  and  other  nations.  I 
will  suggest  to  your  Southern  sages,  who  delight  in  specular 
tions,  that,  in  the  progress  of  years,  they  might  desire,  in  imita? 


TIIK    AK<;rMK\T    FIX  DEI).  277 

tion  of  some  other  people,  to  accept  the  invitations  we  extend 
to  the  oppressed  and  unhappy  of  the  earth.  What  is  there,  in 
that  case,  to  hinder  them  from  immigrating  in  large  numbers  ? 
Could  you  distinguish  between  immigrants  of  their  class,  and 
those  who  now  settle  upon  our  soil  ?  Either  you  could  or  you 
could  not.  If  you  could  not  so  distinguish,  you  would  in  all 
likelihood  have  them  speedily  back,  in  greater  numbers  than 
they  come  from  Green  Erin,  or  Fader-land.  Thus  you  would 
be  reduced  to  almost  the  same  condition  as  general  emancipa- 
tion would  bring  about ;  but,  if  you  could,  and  did  make  the 
distinction,  is  it  not  quite  likely  that  deadly  offence  would  be 
given  to  their  government,  which,  added  to  their  already  accu 
mulated  wrongs,  would  light  up  the  fires  of  a  more  frightful 
war  than  the  intestine  rebellion  you  have  talked  of;  or  than 
any  that  has  ever  desolated  this  continent  ?  Bethink  yourselves 
of  these  things  amid  your  gloomy  forebodings,  and  you  will  find 
them  pregnant  with  fearful  issues.  You  will  discover,  too,  the 
folly  of  longer  maintaining  your  burdensome  system,  and  the 
wisdom  of  heeding  whilst  you  may,  the  counsel  of  the  philan- 
thropic, which  urges  you  to  just,  generous,  speedy,  universal 
emancipation.  But  I  have  fatigued  you,  and  will  stop  ;  hoping 
soon  to  hear  that  you  have  magnanimously  redeemed  the 
promise  which  I  had  the  gratification  to  hear  at  the  commence- 
ment of  our  conversation." 

When  Mr.  Trueman  paused,  Mr.  Winston  sprang  to  his  feet 
in  a  rage,  knocking  over  his  chair  in  the  excitement,  and  de- 
claring that  he  had  most  patiently  listened  to  flimsy  Abolition 
talk,  in  which  there  was  no  shadow  of  argument,  mere  common 
cant ;  that  he  would  advise  Mr.  Trueman  to  be  more  particular 
in  the  dissemination  of  his  dangerous  and  obnoxious  opinions ; 
and,  as  to  his  own  voluntary  pledge,  it  was  conditional,  and 
those  conditions  had  not  been  complied  with,  and  he  did  not 
consider  himself  bound  to  redeem  it.  Mr.  Trueman  endeavored 
to  calm- and  soothe  the  hot-blooded  Southerner  ;  but  his  words  had 
no  effect  upon  the  illiberal  man,  whom  he  had  so  fairly  demol- 
ished in  argument. 


27S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OK    A    FF.MALF,    SLAVE. 

As  they  passed  my  hiding-place,  en  route,  to  their  respective 
apartments,  I  peeped  out  through  a  crevice  in  the  door  at  them. 
It  was  very  easy  to  detect  the  calm,  self-poised  man,  the 
thoughtful  reasoner,  in  the  still,  pale  face  and  ei-ect  form  of 
Trueman ;  whilst  the  red,  hot-flushed  countenance,  the  quick, 
peering  eye  and  audacious  manner  of  the  other,  revealed  his 
unpleasant  disposition  and  unsystematized  mind. 

When  the  last  echo  of  their  retreating  footsteps  had  died 
upon  the  ear,  I  stole  from  my  concealment,  and  ventured  to  my 
own  quarters.  Many  new  thoughts  sprang  into  existence  in  my 
mind,  suggested  hy  the  conversation  to  which  I  had  listened. 

I  venerated  Mr.  Trueman  more  than  ever.  No  disciple  ever 
regarded  the  face  of  his  master  so  reverently  as  I  watched 
his  countenance,  when  I  chanced  to  meet  him  in  any  part  of 
the  house. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

THE    MISDEMEANOR — THE    PUNISHMENT  —  ITS    CONSEQUENCE  — 

FRIGHT. 

The  next  day  Miss  Jane,  observing  my  unusual  thoughtful- 
ness,  said  : 

"  Come,  now,  Ann,  you  are  not  quite  free.  From  the  airs  that 
you  have  put  on,  one  would  think  you  had  been  made  so.'' 

"What  have  I  done,  Miss  Jane?"  This  was  asked  in  a 
quiet  tone,  perhaps  not  so  obsequiously  as  she  thought  it  should 
be.     Thereupon  she  took  great  offence. 

"  How  dare  you,  Miss,  speak  to  me  in  that  tone  ?  Take 
that,"  and  she  dealt  me  a  blow  across  the  forehead  with  a  long, 
limber  whalebone,  that  laid  the  flesh  open.  I  was  so  stunned 
by  it  that  I  reeled,  and  should  have  fallen  to  the  floor,  had  I  not 
supported  myself  by  the  bed-post. 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  scream." 

I  attempted  to  bind  up  my  brow  with  a  handkerchief.  This 
she  regarded  as  affectation. 

"  Take  care,  Miss  Ann,"  she  often  prefixed  the  Miss  when 
she  was  mad,  by  way  of  taunting  me ;  ''  give  yourself  none 
of  those  important  airs.     I'll  take  you  down  a  little." 

When  Mr.  Summerville  entered,  she  began  to  cry,  saying  : 

''  Husband,  this  nigger-wench  has  given  me  a  great  deal  of 
impertinence.  Father  never  allowed  it ;  now  I  want  to  know 
if  you  will  not  protect  me  from  such  insults." 

",  Certainly,  my  love,  I'll  not  allow  any  one,  white  or  black, 
to  insult  you.  Ann,  how  dare  you  give  your  mistress  impu- 
dence ?" 

"  I  did  not  mean  it,  Master  William."  I  had  thus  addressed 
him  ever  since  his  marriage. 

I  attempted  to  relate  the  conversation  that  had  occurred, 

1.279] 


280         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

wherein  Miss  Jane  thought  I  had  been  impudent,  when  she 
suddenly  sprang  up,  exclaiming  : 

"  Do  you  allow  a  negro  to  give  testimony  against  your  own 
wife  ?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Summerville,"  she  was  getting  angry  with  him, 
"  I  require  you  to  whip  that  girl  severely ;  if  you  don't  do 
it — why — "  and  she  ground  her  teeth  fiercely. 

"  I  will  have  her  whipped,  my  dear,  but  I  cannot  whip  her." 

"  Why  can't  you  ?"  and  the  lady's  eye  flashed. 

"  Because  I  should  be  injured  by  it.  Gentlemen  do  not  cor- 
rect negroes  ;  they  hire  others  to  do  that  sort  of  business." 

"Ah,  well,  then,  hire  some  one  who  will  do  it  well." 

"  Come  with  me,  Ann,"  he  said  to  me,  as  I  stood  speechless 
with  fear  and  mortification. 

"  Seeing  him  again  motion  me  to  follow,  I,  forgetful  of  the  in- 
justice that  had  been  done  me,  and  the  honest  resentment  I 
should  feel — forgetful  of  everything  but  the  humiliation  to  which 
they  were  going  to  subject  me — fell  on  my  knees  before  Miss 
Jane,  and  besought  her  to  excuse,  to  forgive  me,  and  I  would 
never  offend  her  again. 

"Don't  dare  to  ask  mercy  of  me.  You  know  that  I  am  too 
much  like  father  to  spare  a  nigger." 

Ah,  well  I  knew  it!  and  vainly  I  sued  to  her.  I  might  have 
known  that  she  rejoiced  too  much  in  the  sport;  and,  had  she 
been  in  the  country,  would  have  asked  no  higher  pleasure  than 
to  attend  to  it  personally.  A  negro's  scream  of  agony  was 
music  to  her  cars. 

I  governed  myself  as  well  as  I  could  while  I  followed  Mr. 
Summerville  through  the  halls  and  winding  galleries.  Down 
flights  of  steps,  through  passages  and  lobbys  we  went,  until  at 
last  we  landed  in  the  cellar.  There  Mr.  Summerville  siirren- 
dered  me  to  the  care  of  a  Mr.  Monkton,  the  bar-keeper  of  the 
establishment  duly  appointed  and  fitted  for  the  office  of  slave- 
whipping. 

"  Here,"  said  Mr.  Summerville,  ''  give  this  girl  a  good,  gen- 


THE    SUBTERRANEAN    ROOM.  2S1 

teel  whipping- ;  but  no  cruelty,  Monkton,  and  here  is  your  fee ;" 
so  saying  he  handed  him  a  half-dollar,  then  left  the  dismal 
cellar. 

1  have  since  read  long  and  learned  accounts  of  the  gloomy, 
subterranean  cells,  in  which  the  cruel  ministers  of  the  Spanish 
Inquisition  performed  their  horrible  deeds ;  and  I  think  this 
cellar  very  nearly  resembled  them.  There  it  was,  with  its  low, 
damp,  vault-like  roof;  its  unwholesome  air,  earthen  floor,  cov- 
ered with  broken  wine  bottles,  and  oyster  cans,  the  debris  of 
many  a  wild  night's  revel  !  There  stood  the  monster  Monkton, 
with  his  fierce,  lynx  eye,  his  profuse  black  beard,  and  frousy 
brows ;  a  great,  stalwart  man,  of  a  hard  face  and  manner,  form- 
ing no  bad  picture  of  those  wolfish  inquisitors  of  cruel,  Catholic 
Spain  ! 

Over  this  untempting  scene  a  dim,  waning  lamp,  threw  its 
blue  glare,  only  rendering  the  place  more  hideous. 

''  Now,  girl,  I  am  to  lick  you  well.  You  see  the  half-dollar. 
Well,  I'm  to  git  the  worth  of  it  out  of  your  hide.  Now,  what 
would  you  think  if  I  didn't  give  you  a  single  lick  ?" 

I  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  and  even  by  that  equivocal 
light  I  had  power  to  discern  his  horrid  purpose,  and  I  quickly 
and  proudly  replied, 

"  I  should  think  you  did  your  duty  poorly." 

'•  And  why  V 

"  Because  you  engaged  to  do  the  job,  and  even  received  your 
pay  m  advance ;  therefore,  if  you  fail  to  comply  with  your  bar- 
gain, you  are  not  trustworthy." 

'  Wal,  you're  smart  enough  for  a  lawyer." 

"  Well,  attend  to  your  business." 

"  This  is  my  business,"  and  he  held  up  a  stout  wagon-whip  ; 
"  come,  strip  off." 

"That  is  not  a  part  of  the  contract." 

"Yes;  but  it's  the  way  I  always  whips  'em." 

"  You  were  not  told  to  use  me  so,  and  I  am  not  going  to  re- 
move one  article  of  my  clothing." 

"Yes,  but  you  shall;"  and  he   approached  me,  his  wild  eye 


282  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

glaring  with,  a  lascivious  light,  and  the  deep  passion-spot  blazing 
on  his  cheek. 

"  Girl,  you've  got  to  yield  to  me.  I'll  have  you  now,  if  its 
only  to  show  you  that  I  can." 

I  drew  hack  a  few  steps,  and,  seizing  a  broken  bottle,  waited, 
with  a  deadly  purpose,  to  see  what  he  would  do.  He  came  so 
near  that  I  almost  fancied  his  fetid  breath  played  with  its  dam- 
nable heat  upon  my  very  cheek. 

''  You've  got  to  be  mine.  I'll  give  you  a  fine  calico  dress, 
and  a  pretty  pair  of  ear-bobs  !" 

This  was  too  much  for  further  endurance.  What  !  must  I 
give  up  the  angel-sealed  honor  of  my  life  in  traffic  for  trinkets  ? 
Where  is  the  woman  that  would  not  have  hotly  resented  such 
an  insult  ? 

I  turned  upon  him  like  a  hungry  lioness,  and  just  as  his  wan- 
ton hand  was  about  to  be  laid  upon  me,  I  dexterously  aimed, 
and  hurled  the  bottle  directly  against  his  left  temple.  With  a 
low  cry  of  pain  he  fell  to  the  floor,  and  the  blood  oozed  freely 
from  the  wound. 

As  my  first  impression  was  that  I  had  slain  him,  so  was  it  my 
first  desperate  impulse  to  kill  myself;  yet  with  a  second  thought 
came  my  better  intention,  and,  unlocking  the  door,  I  turned 
and  left  the  gloomy  cell.  I  mounted  the  dust-covered  steps, 
and  rapidly  threaded  silent,  spider  festooned  halls,  until  I  re- 
gained the  upper  courts.  How  beautiful  seemed  the  full  gush 
of  day -light  to  me  !  But  the  heavy  weight  of  a  supposed  crime 
bowed  me  to  the  earth. 

My  first  idea  was  to  proceed  directly  to  Mr.  Summerville's 
apartment  and  make  a  truthful  statement  of  the  affair.  What 
he  would  do  or  have  done  to  me  was  a  matter  upon  which  I  had 
expended  no  thought.  My  apprehension  was  altogether  for  the 
safety  of  my  soul.  Homicide  was  so  fearful  a  thing,  that  even 
when  committed  in  actual  self-defence,  I  feared  for  the  justice 
of  it.  The  Divine  interrogatory  made  to  Cain  rang  with  painful 
accuracy  in  my  mental  ear!  "Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?" 
I  repeated  it  again  and  again,  and  I  lived  years  in  the  brief 


MR.  trueman's  words.  283 

space  of  a  moment.  Away  over  the  trackless  void  of  the  future 
fled  imagination,  painting  all  things  and  scenes  with  a  sombre 
color. 

The  first  recognizable  person  whom  I  met  was  Mr.  Winston. 
I  knew  there  was  but  little  to  hope  for  from  him,  for  ever  since 
the  argument  between  himself  and  Mi-.  Trueman,  he  had  ap- 
peared unusually  haughty ;  and  the  waiters  said  that  he  had 
become  excessively  overbearing,  that  he  was  constantly  knock- 
ing them  around  with  his  gold-headed  cane,  and  swearing  that 
Kentucky  slaves  were  almost  as  bad  as  Northern  free  negroes. 

Henry  (who  had  become  a  most  dear  friend  of  mine)  told  me 
that  Mr.  Winston  had  on  one  or  two  occasions,  without  the 
slightest  provocation,  struck  him  severely  over  the  head  ;  but 
these  things  were  pretty  generally  done  in  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Trueman,  and  for  no  higher  object,  I  honestly  believe,  than  to 
annoy  that  pure-souled  philanthropist.  So  I  was  assured  that 
he  was  not  one  to  entrust  with  my  secret,  especially  as  a  great 
intimacy  had  sprung  up  between  him  and  Miss  Jane.  I,  there- 
fore, hastily  passed  him,  and  a'few  steps  on  met  Mr.  Trueman. 
How  serene  appeared  his  chaste,  marble  face  !  Who  that  looked 
upon  him,  with  his  quiet,  reflective  eye,  but  knew  that  an  angel 
sat  enthroned  within  his  bosom  ?  Do  not  such  faces  help  to 
prove  the  perfectibility  of  the  race  ?  If,  as  the  transcendental- 
ists  believe,  these  noble  characters  are  only  types  of  what  the 
whole  man  will  be,  may  we  not  expect  much  from  the  advent 
of  that  dubious  personage  1 

"Mr.  Trueman,"  I  said,  and  my  voice  was  clear  and  unfalter- 
ing, for  something  in  his  face  and  manner  exorcised  all  fear, 
"  I  have  done  a  fearful  deed." 

"  What,  child  ?"  he  asked,  and  his  eye  was  full  of  solicitude. 

I  then  gave  him  a  hurried  account  of  what  had  occurred  in 
the  cellar.     After  a  slight  pause,  he  said  : 

"The  best  thing  for  you  to  do  will  be  to  make  instant  confes- 
sion to  Mr.  Summerville.  Alas  !  I  fear  it  will  go  hard  with  you, 
for  you  are  a  slavey 

I  thanked  him  for  the  interest  he  had  manifested  in  me,  and 


284         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

passed  on  to  Miss  Jane's  room.  I  paused  one  moment  at  the 
door,  before  turning  the  knob.  What  a  variety  of  feelings  were 
at  work  in  my  breast !  Had  I  a  fellow-creature's  blood  upon 
my  hands  ?  I  trembled  in  every  limb,  but  at  length  controlled 
myself  sufficiently  to  enter. 

There  sat  Miss  Jane,  engaged  at  her  crochet-work,  and 
Master  William  playing  with  the  balls  of  cotton  and  silk  in  her 
little  basket. 

"  Well,  Ann,  I  trust  you've  got  your  just  deserts,  a  good 
whipping,"  said  Miss  Jane,  as  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  me. 

Very  calmly  I  related  all  that  had  occurred.  Mr.  Summer- 
ville  sprang  to  his  feet  and  rushed  from  the  room,  whilst  Miss 
Jane  set  up  a  series  of  screams  loud  enough  to  reach  the  most 
distant  part  of  the  house.  All  my  services  were  required  to 
keep  her  from  swooning,  or  affecting  to  swoon. 

The  ladies  from  the  adjoining  room  srushed  in  to  her  assist- 
ance, and  were  soon  busy  chafing  her  hands,  rubbing  her  feet, 
and  bathing  her  temples. 

"  Isn't  this  terrible  !"  ejaculated  one. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  cried  another. 

"  Poor  creature,  she  is  hysterical,"  was  the  explanation  of  a 
third. 

I  endeavored  to  explain  the  cause  of  Miss  Jane's  excitement. 

"  You  did  right,"  said  one  lady,  whose  truly  womanly  spirit 
burst  through  all  conventionality  and  restraint. 

"  What,"  said  one,  a  genuine  Southern  conservative,  "  do  you 
say  it  was  right  for  a  slave  to  oppose  and  resist  the  punishment 
which  her  master  had  directed  ?" 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  it  was  right  for  a  female,  no  matter 
whether  white  or  black,  to  resist,  even  to  the  shedding  of  blood, 
the  lascivious  advances  of  a  bold  libertine." 

"  Do  you  believe  the  girl's  story  ?" 

''  Yes  ;  why  not  ?" 

"  I  don't  ;  it  bears  the  impress  of  falsehood  on  its  very 
face." 

"No,"  added    another  Kentucky  true-blue,    "Mr    Monkton 


THE    REBUFF.  285 

was  going  to  whip  her,  and  she  resisted  him.  That's  the  cor- 
rect version  of  the  story,  I'll  bet  my  life  on  it." 

To  all  of  this  aspersion  upon  myself,  I  was  bound  to  be  a 
silent  auditor,  yet  ever  obeying  their  slightest  order  to  hand 
them  water,  cologne,  &c.     Is  not  this  slavery  indeed  ? 

When  Mr.  Summerville  left  the  room,  he  hastily  repaired  to 
the  bar,  where  he  made  the  story  known,  and  getting  assistance, 
forthwith  went  to  the  cellar,  Mr.  Winston  forming  one  of  the 
party  of  investigation.  His  Southern  prejudices  were  in- 
stantly aroused,  and  he  was  ready  "  to  do  or  die"  for  the  propo- 
gation  of  the  "  peculiar  institution." 

The  result  of  their  trip  was  to  find  Monkton  very  feeble  from 
the  loss  of  blood,  and  suffering  from  the  cut  made  by  the  broken 
bottle,  but  with  enough  life  left  in  him  for  the  fabrication  of  a 
falsehood,  which  was  of  course  believed,  as  he  had  a  white  face. 
He  stated  that  he  had  proceeded  to  the  administration  of  the 
whipping,  directed  by  my  master  ;  that  I  resisted  him  ;  and  find- 
ing it  necessary  to  bind  me,  he  was  attempting  to  do  so,  when  I 
swore  that  I  would  kill  him,  and  that  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  I  hurled  the  broken  bottle  at  his  temples. 

When  Mr.  Summerville  repeated  this  to  Miss  Jane,  in  my 
presence,  stating  that  it  was  the  testimony  that  Monkton  was 
prepared  to  give  in  open  court,  for  I  was  to  be  arrested,  I 
could  not  refrain  from  uttering  a  cry  of  surprise,  and  saying  : 

"  Mr.  Monkton  has  misrepresented  the  case,  as  '  I  can  show.'  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  will  not  be  allowed  to  give  evidence,"  said 
Master  William. 

''  Will  Mr.  Monkton's  testimony  be  taken  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Certainly,  but  a  negro  cannot  bear  witness  against  a  white 
person." 

I  said  nothing,  but  many  thoughts  were  troubling  me. 

"You  see,  Ann,  what  your  bad  conduct  has  brought  you  to," 
said  Miss  Jane. 

Again  I  attempted  to  tell  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  defend 
myself,  but  she  interrupted  me,  saying : 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  believe  a  word  of  that  ?     I  can  assure 


286         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OV    A  FEMALE  SLAVE 

you  I  do  not,  and,  moreover,  I'm  not  going  to  spend  my  money 
to  have  a  lawyer  employed  to  keep  you  from  the  punishment 
you  so  richly  deserve.  So  you  must  content  yourself  to  take 
the  public  hanging  or  whipping  in  the  jail  yard,  which  is  the 
penalty  that  will  be  affixed  to  your  crime."  Turning  to  Mr. 
Summerville,  she  added,  "  I  think  it  will  do  Ann  good,  for  it 
will  take  clown  her  pride,  and  make  her  a  valuable  nigger.  She 
has  been  too  proud  of  her  character ;  for  my  part,  I  had  rather 
she  had  had  less  virtue.  I've  always  thought  she  was  virtuous 
because  she  did  not  want  us  to  increase  in  property,  and  was  too 
proud  to  have  her  children  live  in  bondage." 

I  dared  not  make  any  remark ;  but  there  I  stood  in  dread  of 
the  approaching  arrest,  which  came  full  soon. 

As  I  was  sewing  for  Miss  Jane,  Mr.  Summerville  opened  the 
door,  and  said  to  a  rough  man,  pointing  to  me — 

"  There's  the  girl." 

''  Come  along  with  me  to  jail,  gal." 

How  fearfully  sounded  the  command.  The  jail-house  was  a 
place  of  terror,  and  though  I  had  in  my  brief  life  "  supped  full 
of  horrors,"  this  Avas  a  new  species  of  torture  that  I  had  hoped 
to  leave  untasted. 

Taking  with  me  nothing  but  my  bonnet,  I  followed  Con- 
stable Calcraft  down  stairs  into  the  street.  Upon  one  of  the 
landings  I  met  Henry,  and  I  knew  from  his  kindly  mournful 
glance,  that  he  gave  me  all  his  compassion. 

"  Good-bye,  Ann,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  to  me, 
"  good-bye,  and  keep  of  good  cheer  ;  the  Lord  will  be  with 
you."  I  looked  at  him,  and  saw  that  his  lip  was  quivering ; 
and  his  dark  eye  glittered  with  a  furtive  tear.  I  dared  not  trust 
my  voice,  so,  with  a  grateful  pressure  of  the  hand,  I  passed  him 
by,  keeping  up  my  composure  right  stoutly.  At  the  foot  of  the 
stair  I  met  Louise,  who  was  weeping. 

"  I  believe  you,  Ann,  we  all  believe  you,  and  the  Lord  will 
make  it  appear  on  the  day  of  your  trial  that  you  are  right,  only 
keep  up  your  spirits,  and  read  this,"  and  she  slipped  a  little 
pocket-Testament  into  my  hand,  which  was  a  welcome  present. 


MEETING    WITH    MR.    TRUEMAN.  281 

Now,  I  thought,  the  last  trial  is  over.  All  the  tender  ones 
who  love  me  have  spoken  their  comforting  words,  and  I  may 
resume  my  pride  and  hauteur ;  but  no — standing  within  the 
vestibule  was  the  man  whom  I  reverenced  above  all  others,  Mr. 
Trueman.  One  effort  more,  and  then  I  might  be  calm ;  but  be- 
fore the  sunshine  of  his  kindliness  the  snow  and  ice  of  my  pride 
melted  and  passed  away  in  showers  of  tears.  The  first  glance 
of  his  pitying  countenance  made  me  weep.  I  was  weary  and 
heavy-laden,  and,  even  as  to  a  mortal  brother,  I  longed  to  pour 
into  his  ear  the  pent-up  agony  of  my  soul. 

"  Poor  girl,"  he  said  kindly,  as  he  offered  me  his  white  and 
finely-formed  hand,  "  I  believe  you  innocent ;  there  is  that  in 
your  clear,  womanly  look,  your  unaffected  utterance,  that 
proves  to  me  you  are  worthy  to  be  heard.     Trust  in  God." 

Oh,  can  I  ever  forget  the  diamond-like  glister  of  his  blue 
eyes  !  and  that  tear  was  evoked  from  its  fountain  for  my  sor- 
row ;  even  then  I  felt  a  thrill  of  joy.  We  love  to  have  the 
sympathy  and  confidence  of  the  truly  great.  I  made  no  reply, 
in  words,  to  Mr.  Trueman,  but  he  understood  me. 

Conducted  by  the  constable,  I  passed  through  a  number  of 
streets,  all  crowded  with  the  busy  and  active,  perhaps  the 
happy.  Ah,  what  a  fable  that  word  seemed  to  express  !  I 
used  to  doubt  every  smiling  face  I  saw,  and  think  it  a  radiant 
Ik  !  but,  since  then,  though  in  a  subdued  sense,  I  have  learned 
that  mortals  may  be  happy. 

We  stopped,  after  a  long  walk,  in  front  of  a  large  building  of 
Ionic  architecture,  and  of  dark  brown  stone,  ornamented  by  beau- 
tiful flutings,  with  a  tasteful  slope  of  rich  sward  in  front,  adorned 
with  a  variety  of  flowers  and  shrubbery.  Through  this  we  passed 
and  reached  the  first  court,  which  was  surrounded  by  a  high  stone- 
wall. Passing  through  a  low  door-way,  we  stood  on  the  first 
pave  ;  here  I  was  surrendered  to  the  keeping  of  the  jailer,  a 
man  apparently  devoid  of  generosity  and  humanity.  After 
hearing  from  Constable  Calcraft  an  account  of  the  crime  for 
which  I  was  committed,  he  observed — 

"  A  sassy,  impudent,  oitraly  gal,  I  guess ;   we  have   plenty 


288  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

sick ;  this  will  larn  her  a  lessin.  Come  with  me,"  he  said,  as 
he  turned  his  besotted  face  toward  me. 

Through  dirty,  dark,  filthy  passages  I  went,  until  we  reach- 
ed a  gloomy,  loathsome  apartment,  in  which  he  rudely  thrust 
me,  saying — 

"  Thar's  your  quarters." 

Such  a  place  as  it  was  !  A  small  room  of  sis  by  eight,  with 
a  dirty,  discolored  floor,  over  which  rats  and  mice  scampered 
ad  libitum.  One  miserable  little  iron  grate  let  in  a  stray  ray 
of  daylight,  only  revealing  those  loathsome  things  which  the 
friendly  darkness  would  have  concealed.  Cowering  in  the 
corner  of  this  wretched  pen  was  a  poor,  neglected  white 
woman,  whose  face  seemed  unacquainted  with  soap  and  water, 
and  her  hair  tagged,  ragged,  and  unused  to  comb  or  brush.  She 
clasped  to  her  breast  a  weasly  suckling,  that  every  now  and 
then  gave  a  sickly  cry,  indicative  of  the  cholic  or  a  heated 
atmosphere. 

"  Poor  comfort  !"  said  the  woman,  as  I  entered,  "  poor  com- 
fort here,  whare  the  starved  wretches  are  cryin'  for  ar.  My 
baby  has  bin  a  sinkin'  ever  sense  I  come  here.  I'd  not  keer 
much  if  we  could  both  die." 

"  For  what  are  you  to  be  tried  V 

"  For  takin'  a  loaf  of  bread  to  keep  myself  and  child  from 
starvin'." 

She  then  asked  me  for  what  I  stood  accused.  I  told  her  my 
story,  and  we  grew  quite  talkative  and  sociable,  thereby  real- 
izing the  old  axiom,  "  Misery  loves  company." 

%.  >£  ;|<  s|e  >|c  :):  s|s 

For  several  days  I  lingered  on  thus,  diversifying  the  time 
only  by  reading  my  Testament,  the  gift  of  Louise,  and  occa- 
sionally having  a  long  talk  with  my  companion,  whom  I  learned 
to  address  by  the  name  of  Fanny.  She  was  a  woman  of  re- 
markably sensitive  feelings,  quick  and  warm  in  all  her  im- 
pulses; just  such  a  creature  as  an  education  and  kindly  train- 
ing would  have  made  lovely  and  lovable  ;  but  she  had  been 
utterly  neglected — had  grown  up  a  complete  human  weed. 


THE   VISIT.  289 

Our  meals  were  served  round  to  us  upon  a  large  wooden 
drawer,  as  filthy  as  dirt  and  grease  could  make  it.  The  cuisine 
dashed  our  rations,  a  slice  of  fat  hacon  and  "  pone"  of  corn 
bread  to  us,  with  as  little  ceremony  as  though  we  had  been 
dogs  ;  and  we  were  allowed  one  blanket  to  sleep  on. 

One  day,  when  I  felt  more  than  usually  gloomy,  I  was 
agreeably  disappointed,  as  the  cumbersome  door  opened  to  ad- 
mit my  kind  friend   Louise.     The  jailer  remarked : 

'*  You  may  stay  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  but  no  longer." 

"Thank  you,  sir,v  she  replied. 

''  This  is  very  kind  of  you,  Louise,"  for  I  was  touched  by 
the  visit. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Ann ;  and  look  what  I  brought  you !" 
She  held  a  beautiful  bouquet  to  me. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you  a  thousand  times,  this  is  too  kind," 
I  said,  as  I  watered  the  lovely  flowers  with  my  tears. 

"Oh,  they  were  sent  to  yon,"  she  answered,  with  a  smile. 

"  And  who  sent  them  V 

"  Why,  Henry,  of  course  ;"  and  again  she  smiled. 

I  know  not  why,  but  I  felt  the  blood  rushing  warmly  to  my  . 
face,  as  I  bent  my  head  very  low,  to  conceal  a  confusion  which 
I  did  not  understand. 

"  But  here  is  something  that  I  did  bring  you,"  and,  opening 
a  basket,  she  drew  out  a  nice,  tempting  pie,  some  very  delicious 
fruit  cake,  and  white  bread. 

"  I  suppose  your  fare  is  miserable  ?" 

"  Oh,  worse  than  miserable." 

Fanny  drew  near  me,  and  without  the  least  timidity,  stretch- 
ed forth  her  hand. 

''  Oh,  please  give  me  some,  only  a  little ;  I'm  nearly  starved  ?" 

I  freely  gave  her  the  larger  portion,  for  she  could  enjoy  it.  I 
had  the  flowers,  the  blessed  flowers,  that  Henry  had  sent,  and 
they  were  food  and  drink  for  me  ! 

Louise  informed  me  that,  since   my  arrest,  she  had  cleared 
up  and  arranged  Miss  Jane's  room ;  and  she  thought  it  was 
Mr.  Summerville's  intention  to  sell  me  after  the  trial. 
13 


290  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

"  Have  you  heard  who  will  buy  me  ?"  I  asked. 

''  Oh,  no,  I  don't  suppose  an  offer  has  yet  been  made ;  nor  do 
I  know  that  it  is  their  positive  intention  to  sell  you ;  but  that  is 
what  I  judged  from  their  conversation." 

"  If  they  get  me  a  good  master  I  am  very  willing  to  be  sold; 
for  I  could  not  find  a  worse  home  than  I  have  now." 

"  I  expect  if  he  sells  you,  it  will  be  to  a  trader  ;  but,  keep 
up  your  heart  and  spirits.  Remember,  '  sufficient  for  the  day  is 
the  evil  thereof  But  I  hear  the  sound  of  footsteps;  the  jailer 
is  coming  ;  my  quarter  of  an  hour  is  out." 

"  How  came  he  to  admit  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  know  Mr.  Trayton  very  well.  I've  washed  for  his 
wife,  and  she  owes  me  a  little  bill  of  a  couple  of  dollars ;  so 
when  I  came  here,  I  said  by  way  of  a  bait,  'Now,  Mrs.  Trayton, 
I  didn't  come  to  dun  you,  I'll  make  you  a  present  of  that  little 
bill ;"  then  she  and  he  were  both  in  a  mighty  good  humor  with 
me.  I  then  said,  "I've  got  a  friend  here,  and  I'd  take  it  as  a 
favor  if  you'd  let  me  see  her  for  a  little  while.' 

'•  Mr.  Trayton  said  : 

"  '  Oh,  that  can't  be — it's  against  the  rules.' 

"  So  his  wife  set  to  work,  and  persuaded  him  that  he  owed 
me  a  favor,  and  he  consented  to  let  me  see  you  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  only.  Before  he  comes,  tell  me  what  message  I  am  to 
give  Henry  for  you.     I  know  he  will  be  anxious  to  hear." 

Again  I  felt  the  blood  tingling  in  my  veins,  and  overspread- 
ing my  face.  I  began  to  play  with  my  flowers,  and  muttered 
out  something  about  gratitude  for  the  welcome  present,  a  mes- 
sage which,  incoherent  as  it  was,  her  woman's  wit  knew  to  be 
sincere  and  gracious.  After  a  few  moments  the  jailer  came, 
saying  : 

"  Louise,  your  time  is  up." 

''  I  am  ready  to  go,"  and  she  took  up  her  basket.  After  bid- 
ding me  a  kind  adieu  she  departed,  carrying  with  her  much  of 
the  sunshine  which  her  presence  had  brought,  but  not  all  of  it, 
for  she  left  with  me  a  ray  or  so  to  illumine  the  darkened  cell 
of  recollection.      There  on  my  lap  lay  the  blooming  flowers, 


THE    FLOWERS.  291 

Ms  gift !  Flowers  are  always  a  joy  to  us — they  gladden  and 
beautify  our  outer  and  every-day  life  ;  they  preach  us  a  ser- 
mon of  beauty  and  love ;  but  to  the  weary,  lonely  captive,  in 
his  dismal  cell,  they  are  particularly  beautiful  !  They  speak 
to  him  in  a  voice  which  nothing  else  can,  of  the  glory  of  the 
sun-lit  world,  from  which  he  is  exiled.  Thanks  to  Grod  for 
flowers !  Rude,  and  coarse,  and  vile  must  be  the  nature  that 
can  trample  them  with  unhallowed  feet ! 

There  I  sat  toying  with  them,  inhaling  their  mystic  odor, 
and  luxuriating  upon  the  delicacy  of  their  ephemeral  beauty. 
All  flowers  were  dear  to  me ;  but  these  were  particularly  pre- 
cious, and  wherefore  ?  Is  there  a  single  female  heart  that  will 
not  divine  "the  wherefore  "?  You,  who  are  clad  in  satin,  and 
decked  with  jewels,  albeit  your  face  is  as  white  as  snow,  can- 
not boast  of  emotions  different  from  ours  ?  Feeling,  emotion, 
is  the  same  in  the  African  and  the  white  woman  ?  We  are 
made  of  the  same  clay,  and  informed  by  the  same  spirit. 

The  better  portion  of  the  night  I  sat  there,  sadly  wakeful, 
still  clutching  those  flowers  to  my  breast,  and  covering  them 
Avith  kisses. 

The  heavy  breathing  of  my  companion  sounded  drowsily  in 
my  ear,  yet  never  wooed  me  to  a  like  repose.  Thus  wore  on 
the  best  part  of  the  night,  until  the  small,  shadowy  hours,  when 
I  sank  to  a  sweet  dream.  I  was  wandering  in  a  rich  garden  of 
tropical  flowers,  with  Henry  by  my  side !  Through  enchanted 
gates  we  passed,  hand  in  hand,  singing  as  we  went.  Long  and 
dreamily  we  loitered  by  low-gurgling  summer  fountains,  listen- 
ing to  the  lulling  Avail  of  falling  water.  Then  we  journeyed  on 
toward  a  fairy  flower-palace,  that  loomed  up  greenly  in  the  dis- 
tance, which  ever,  as  Ave  approached  it,  seemed  to  recede  fur- 
ther. 

I  aAvoke  before  we  reached  the  floral  palace,  and  I  am  wo- 
manly enough  to  confess,  that  I  felt  annoyed  that  the  dream 
had  been  broken  by  the  cry  of  Fanny's  babe.  I  puzzled  my- 
self trying,  to  read  its  import.  Are  there  many  women  who 
would  have  differed  from  me  ?     Yet  I  was  distressed  to  find 


292  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Fanny's  little  boy-babe  very  sick,  so  much  so  as  to  require 
medical  attention  ;  but,  alas!  sbe  was  too  poor  to  offer  remunera- 
tion to  a  doctor,  therefore  none  was  sent  for ;  and,  as  the  child 
was  attacked  with  croup,  it  actually  died  for  the  want  of  medi- 
cal attention.  And  this  occurred  in  a  community  boasting  of 
its  enlightenment  and  Christianity,  and  in  a  city  where  fifty-two 
churches  reared  tbeir  gilded  domes  and  ornamented  spires,  in  a 
God-fearing  and  God-serving  community,  proud  of  its  benevo- 
lent societies,  its  hospitals,  &c.  In  what,  I  ask,  are  tbese  Chris- 
tians better  than  the  Pharisees  of  old,  who  prayed  long,  well, 
and  much,  in  their  splendid  temples  ? 


CHAPTEE    XXXI. 

THIS     DAY    OF    TRIAL — ANXIETY — THE     VOLUNTEER     COUNSE^ 

VERDICT    OP    THE    JURY. 

The  day  of  my  trial  dawned  as  fair  and  bright  as  any  that 
ever  broke  over  the  sinful  world.  It  rose  upon  my  slumber 
mildly,  and  without  breaking  its  serenity.  I  slept  better  on 
the  night  preceding  the  trial,  than  I  had  done  since  my  incar- 
ceration. 

I  knew  that  I  was  friendless  and  alone,  and  on  the  eve  of  a  trial 
wherein  I  stood  accused  of  a  fearful  crime  ;  that  I  was  defence- 
less ;  yet  I  rested  my  cause  with  Him,  who  has  bidden  the 
weary  and  heavy-laden  to  come  unto  Him,  and  He  will  give 
them  rest.  Strong  in  this  consciousness,  I  sank  to  the  sweetest 
slumber  and  the  rosiest  dreams.  Through  my  mind  gracefully 
flitted  the  phantom  of  Henry. 

When  Fanny  woke  me  to  receive  my  nnrelished  breakfast, 
she  said  : 

''  You've  forgot  that  this  is  the  day  of  trial ;  you  sleep  as  un- 
consarned  as  though  the  trial  was  three  weeks  off.  For  my 
part,  now  that  the  baby  is  dead,  I  don't  kere  much  what  be- 
comes of  me." 

"  My  cause,"  I  replied,  "  is  with  God.     To  His  keeping  I 
have  confided  myself;  therefore,  I  can  sleep  soundly." 
"  Have  you  got  any  lawyer  ?" 

"No;  I  am  a  slave,  and  my  master  will  not  employ  one." 
After  a  few  hours  we  heard  the  sound  of  a  bell,  that  an- 
nounced the  opening  of  court.  The  jailer  conducted  me  out  of 
the  jail  yard  into  the  Court  House.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had 
ever  seen  the  interior  of  a  court-room,  when  the  court  was  in 
full  session,  and  I  was  not  very  much  edified  by  the  sight. 

[2931 


294  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OK    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

The  outside  of  the  building  was  very  tasteful  and  elegant, 
with  most  ornate  decorations  ;  but  the  interior  was  shocking. 
In  the  first  place  it  was  unfinished,  and  the  bald,  unplastered 
walls  struck  me  as  being  exceedingly  comfortless.  Then  the 
long,  redundant  cobwebs  were  gathered  in  festoons  from  rafter 
to  rafter,  whilst  the  floor  was  fairly  tesselated  with  spots  of  to'- 
bacco-juice,  which  had  been  most  dexterously  ejected  from  cer- 
tain legal  orifices,  commonly  known  as  the  mouths  of  lawyers, 
who,  for  want  of  opportunity  to  speak,  resorted  to  chewing. 

The  judge,  a  lazy-looking  old  gentleman,  sat  in  a  time-worn 
arm-chair,  ready  to  give  his  decision  in  the  case  of  the  Com- 
monwealth versus  Ann,  slave  of  William  Summerville  ;  and 
seeming  to  me  very  much  as  though  his  opinion  was  made  up 
without  a  hearing. 

And  there,  ranged  round  his  Honor,  were  the  practitioners 
and  members  of  the  bar,  all  of  them  in  seedy  clothes,  unshorn 
and  unshaven.  Here  and  there  you  would  find  a  veteran  of  the 
bar,  who  claimed  it  as  his  especial  privilege  to  outrage  the 
King's  or  the  President's  English  and  common  decency  ;  and, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  all  the  younger  ones  were  aiming  to  imi- 
tate him  ;  but,  as  it  was  impossible  to  do  that  in  ability,  they 
succeeded,  to  admiration,  in  copying  his  ill-manners. 

Two  of  them  I  particularly  noticed,  as  I  sat  in  the  prisoner's 
dock,  awaiting  the  "  coming  up  of  my  case."  One  of  them  the 
Court  frequently  addressed  as  Mr.  Spear,  and  a  very  pointless 
spear  he  seemed  ; — a  little,  short,  chunky  man,  with  yellow, 
stiff,  bristling  hair,  that  stood  out  very  straight,  as  if  to  declare 
its  independence  of  the  brain,  and  away  it  went  on  its  owner's 
well-defined  principle  of  "  going  it  on  your  own  hook."  He  had 
a  little  snub  of  a  nose  that  possessed  the  good  taste  to  turn 
away  in  disgust  from  its  neighbor,  a  tobacco-stained  mouth  of 
no  particular  dimensions,  and,  I  should  judge  from  the  sneer 
of  the  said  nose,  of  no  very  pleasant  odor;  little,  hard,  flinty, 
grizzly-gray  eyes,  that  seemed  to  wink  as  though  they  were 
afraid  of  seeing  the  truth.  Altogether,  it  was  the  most  disagree- 
ably-comic phiz  that  I  remember  ever  to  have  seen.     To  com- 


THE    COURT-ROOM.  295 

plete  the  ludicrous  picture,  lie  was  a  self-sufficient  body,  quite 
elate  at  the  idea  of  speaking  "  in  public  on  the  stage."  His 
speech  was  made  up  of  the  frequent  repetition  of  "  my  client 
claims"  so  and  so,  and  "  may  it  please  your  Honor,"  and  "  I'll 
call  the  attention  of  the  Court  to  the  fact,"  and  such  like  phrases, 
but  whether  his  client  was  guilty  of  the  charge  set  forth  in  the 
indictment,  he  neither  proved  nor  disproved. 

The  other  individual  whom  I  remarked,  was  a  great,  fat, 
flabby  man,  whose  flesh  (like  that  of  a  rhinoceros)  hung  loosely 
on  the  bones.  He  seemed  to  consider  personal  ease,  rather  than 
taste,  in  the  arrangement  of  his  toilet;  for  he  appeared 
in  the  presence  of  the  court  in  a  pair  of  half-worn  slippers, 
stockings  "  down-gyved,"  a  shirt-bosom  much  spotted  with 
tobacco-juice,  and  a  neck-cloth  loosely  adjusted  about  his  red, 
beefish  throat.  His  little  watery  blue  eye  reminded  me 
forcibly  of  skimmed  milk  ;  whilst  his  big  nose,  as  red  as  a  peony, 
told  the  story  that  he  was  no  advocate  of  the  Maine  liquor  law, 
and  that  he  had  "  voted  for  license." 

He  was  said,  by  some  of  the  bystanders,  to  have  made  an  ex- 
cellent speech  adverse  to  his  client,  and  in  favor  of  the  side 
against  which  he  was  employed. 

"Hurrah  for  litigation,"  said  an  animadverter  who  stood  in 
proximity  to  me.  After  awhile,  and  in  due  course  of  docket, 
my  case  came  up. 

''  Has  she  no  counsel  ?"  asked  the  judge. 

After  a  moment's  pause,  some  one  answered,  "  No ;  she  has 
none." 

I  felt  a  chill  gathering  at  my  heart,  for  there  was  a  slight 
movement  in  the  crowd  ;  and,  upon  looking  round,  I  discovered 
Mr.  Trueman  making  his  way  through  the  audience.  After  a 
few  words  with  several  members  of  the  bar  and  the  judge,  he 
was  duly  sworn  in,  and  introduced  to  the  Court  as  Mr.  Trueman, 
a  lawyer  from  Massachusetts,  who  desired  to  be  admitted  as  a 
practitioner  at  this  bar.  Thus  duly  qualified,  he  volunteered 
his  services  in  my  defence.  The  look  which  I  gave  him  came 
directly  from  my  overflowing  heart,  and  I  am  sure  spoke  my 


296  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

thanks  more  effectual  than  words  could  have  done.  But  he 
gave  me  no  other  recognition  than  a  faint  smile. 

As  the  case  began,  my  attention  was  arrested.  The  jury  was 
selected  without  difficulty ;  for,  as  none  of  the  panel  had  heard 
of  the  case,  the  counsel  waived  the  privilege  of  challenging. 
After  the  reading  of  the  indictment,  setting  forth  formally  "  an 
assault  upon  Mr.  Monkton,  with  intent  to  kill,  by  one  Ann,  slave 
of  William  Summerville,"  the  Commonwealth's  attorney  intro- 
duced Mr.  Monkton  himself  as  the  only  witness  in  the  case 

In  a  very  minute  and  evidently  pre-arranged  story,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  detail  the  circumstances  of  a  violent  and  deadly  as- 
sault, which  seemed  to  impress  the  jury  greatly  to  my  preju- 
dice. When  he  had  concluded,  the  prosecutor  remarked  that 
he  had  no  further  evidence,  and  proposed  to  submit  the  case, 
without  argument,  to  the  jury,  as  Mr.  Trueman  had  no  witnesses 
in  my  favor.  To  this  proposal,  however,  Mr.  Truemau  would 
not  accede ;  and  so  the  prosecutor  briefly  argued  upon  the  testi- 
mony and  the  law  applicable  to  it.  Then  Mr.  Trueman  rose, 
and  a  thrill  seemed  to  run  through  the  audience  as  his  tall,  com- 
manding form  stood  proud  and  erect,  his  mild  saint-like  eyes 
glowing  with  a  fire  that  I  had  never  seen  before.  He  began 
by  endeavoring  to  disabuse  the  minds  of  the  jury  of  the  very 
natural  ill-feeling  they  might  entertain  against  a  slave,  supposed 
to  have  made  an  attack  upon  the  life  of  a  white  man  ;  reviewed 
at  length  the  distinctions  which  are  believed,  at  the  South,  to 
exist  between  the  two  races;  and  dwelt  especially  upon  those 
oppressive  enactments  which  virtually  place  the  life  of  a  slave 
at  the  mercy  of  even  the  basest  of  the  white  complexion.  Pass- 
ing from  these  general  observations,  he  examined,  with  scrutiny 
the  prepared  story  of  Mr.  Monkton,  showing  it  to  be  a  vile  fab- 
rication of  defeated  malice,  flatly  contradictory  in  essen- 
tial particulars,  and  utterly  unworthy  of  reliance  under  the  wise 
maxim  of  the  law,  -that  ''being  false  in  one  thing,  it  was  false  in 
all."  In  conclusion,  he  made  a  stirring  appeal  to  the  jury,  ex- 
horting them  to  rescue  this  feeble  woman  from  the  foul  machi- 
nations which  had  been  invented  for  her  ruin ;  to  rebuke,  by 


THE    APPEAL.  291 

their  righteous  verdict,  this  swift  and  perjured  witness  ;  and  to 
vindicate  before  the  world  the  honor  of  their  dear  old  Common- 
wealth, which  was  no  less  threatened  by  this  ignominious  pro- 
ceeding than  the  safety  of  his  poor  and  innocent  client. 

The  officers  of  the  Court  could  scarcely  repress  the  applause 
which  succeeded  this  appeal. 

"  Finally,  gentlemen,"  resumed  Mr.  Trueman,  "permit  me  to 
take  back  to  my  Northern  home  the  warm,  personal  testimony 
to  your  love  of  justice,  which,  unbiased  by  considerations  of 
color,  is  dealt  out  to  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  white  and 
black,  with  equal  and  impartial  hands.  Disarm,  by  your  ver- 
dict in  this  instance,  the  reproach  by  which  Kentucky  may 
hereafter  be  assailed  when  her  enemies  shall  tauut  her  with  in- 
justice and  cruelty.  It  has  long  been  said,  at  the  North,  that 
'the  South  cannot  show  justice  to  a  slave.'  Now,  gentlemen, 
'tis  for  you,  in  the  character  of  sworn  jurors,  to  disprove,  by 
your  verdict,  this  oft -repeated,  and,  alas !  in  too  many  instances, 
well-authenticated  charge.  And  I  conjure  you  as  men,  as 
Christians,  as  jurors,  to  deal  justly,  kindly,  humanely  with  this 
poor  uncared-for  slave-woman.  As  you  are  men  and  fathers, 
slave-holders  even,  show  her  justice,  and,  if  need  be,  mercy,  as 
in  like  circumstances  you  would  have  these  dispensed  to  your 
own  daughters  or  slaves.  She  is  a  woman,  it  may  be  an  uncul- 
tured one ;  this  place,  this  Court,  is  strange  to  her.  There  she 
sits  alone,  and  seemingly  friendless,  in  the  dock.  Where  was 
her  master  1  Had  he  prepared  or  engaged  an  advocate  ?  No, 
sir;  he  left  her  helpless  and  undefended;  but  that  God,  alike 
the  God  of  the  Jew  and  the  Gentile,  has,  in  the  hour  of  her 
need,  raised  up  for  her  a  friend  and  advocate.  And  be  ye,  Gen- 
tlemen of  the  Jury,  also  the  friend  of  the  neglected  female  ! 
By  all  the  artlessness  of  her  sex,  she  appeals  to  you  to  rescue 
her  name  from  this  undeserved  aspersion,  and  her  body  from  the 
tortures  of  the  lash  or  the  halter.  Mark,  with  your  strongest 
reprobation,  that  lying  accuser  of  the  powerless,  who,  thwarted 
in  the  attempt  to  violate  one  article  in  the  Decalogue,  has  here, 
and  in  your  presence,  accomplished  the  outrage  of  another,  in- 
13* 


298  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

voking  upon  his  soul,  with  unholy  lips,  the  maledictions  with 
which  God  will  sooner  or  later  overwhelm  the  perjurer.  Look 
at  him  now  as  he  cowers  beneath  my  words.  His  blanched 
cheek  and  shrivelling  eye  denote  the  detected  villain.  He 
dares  not,  like  an  honest,  truth-telling  man,  face  the  charges 
arrayed  against  him.  No,  conscious  guilt  and  wicked  passion 
are  bowing  him  now  to  the  earth.  Dare  he  look  me  full  in  the 
eye?  No;  for  he  fears  lest  I,  with  a  lawyer's  skill,  should 
draw  out  and  expose  the  malicious  fiend  that  has  urged  him  on 
to  the  persecution  of  the  innocent  and  defenceless.  Send  him 
from  your  midst  with  the  brand  of  severest  condemnation,  as  an 
example  of  the  fate  which  awaits  a  false  witness  in  the  Courts 
of  the  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky.  Restore  to  this  prisoner 
the  peace  of  mind  which  has  been  destroyed  by  this  prosecution. 
Thus  you  will  provide  for  yourselves  a  source  of  consolation 
through  all  the  future,  and  I  shall  thank  heaven  with  my  latest 
breath  for  the  chance  that  threw  me,  a  stranger,  in  your  city 
to-day,  and  led  me  to  this  temple  of  justice  to  urge  your  minds 
to  the  right  conclusion." 

He  sat  down  amid  such  thunders  of  applause  as  incurred  the 
censure  of  the  judge.  When  order  was  restored,  the  Common- 
wealth's attorney  rose  to  close  the  case.  He  said  "  he  could  see 
no  reason  for  doubting  the  veracity  of  his  witness  whom  the  op- 
position had  so  strenuously  endeavored  to  impeach.  For  his 
own  part,  he  had  long  known  Mr.  Monkton,  and  had  always  re- 
garded him  as  a  man  of  truth.  The  present  was  the  first  at- 
tempt at  his  impeachment  that  he  Jiad  ever  heard  of;  and  he 
felt  perfectly  satisfied  that  Mr.  Monkton  would  survive  it.  Had 
he  been  the  character  which  his  adversary  had  described,  it 
might  have  been  possible  to  find  some  witness  who  could  in- 
validate his  testimony.  No  one,  however,  has  appeared  ;  and 
I  take  it  that  no  one  exists.  The  gentleman  would  do  well 
to  observe  a  little  more  caution  before  he  attacks  so  recklessly 
the  reputation  of  a  man." 

Mr.  Trueman  rising,  requested  the  prosecutor  to  indulge  him 
for  one  moment. 


THE    SUMMING-UP.  299 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  reply. 

''  I  desire  the  jury  and  the  Court  to  remember,"  said  Mr. 
Truman,  "that  I  made  no  attack  upon  the  reputation  of  the 
witness  in  this  case.  Doubtless  tliat  is  all  which  it  is  claimed 
to  be.  I  freely  concede  it ;  but  the  earnest  prosecutor  must 
permit  me  to  distinguish  between  reputation  and  character.  I 
did  assail  the  character  of  the  man,  but  not  hvpothetically  or 
by  shrewd  conjectures  ;  '  out  of  his  own  mouth  I  condemned 
him.'  This  is  not  the  first  instance  of  crime  committed  by  a 
man,  who,  up  to  the  period  of  transgression,  stood  fair  before 
the  world.  The  gentleman's  own  library  will  supply  abundant 
proofs  of  the  success  of  strong  temptation  in  its  encounters  with 
even  established  virtue ;  and  I  care  not  if  this  willing  witness 
could  bolster  up  his  reputation  with  the  voluntary  affidavits  of 
hosts  of  friends ;  his  own  testimony,  to-day,  would  have  still 
produced  and  riveted  the  conviction  of  his  really  base  charac- 
ter.    I  thank  the  gentleman  for  his  indulgence." 

The  prosecutor  continuing,  endeavored  to  show  that  the  testi- 
mony was,  upon  its  face,  entirely  credible,  and  ought  to  have 
its  weight  with  the  jury.  He  labored  hard  to  reconcile  its 
many  and  material  contradictions,  reiterated  his  own  opinion  of 
the  witness  as  a  man  of  truth  ;  and,  with  an  inflammatory 
warning  against  the  Abolition  counsel,  who,  he  said,  was  perhaps 
now  "  meditating  in  our  midst  some  sinister  design  against  the 
peculiar  institution  of  the  South,"  he  ended  his  fiery  harangue. 

When  he  had  taken  his  seat,  Mr.  Trueman  addressed  the 
Court  as  follows  : 

"  Before  the  jury  retire,  may  it  please  your  Honor,  as  the  case 
is  of  a  serious  nature,  and  as  we  have  no  witness  for  the  de- 
fence, I  would  ask  permission  merely  to  repeat  the  version  of 
the  circumstances  of  this  case  detailed  to  me  by  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar.  Such  a  statement,  I  am  aware,  is  not  legal  evidence; 
but  if,  in  your  clemency,  you  would  permit  it  to  go  to  the  jury 
simply  for  what  it  is  worth,  the  course  of  justice  I  am  sure 
would  by  no  means  be  impeded." 

The  judge  readily  consented  to  this  request,  and  Mr, 
11 


300  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Trueman  rehearsed  my  story,  as  narrated  in  the  foregoing 
pages. 

The  Commonwealth's  attorney  then  rejoined  with  a  few  re- 
marks. 

After  a  retirement  of  a  few  minutes,  the  jury  returned  with 
a  verdict  of  "guilty  as  charged  in  the  indictment,"  ordering  me 
to  receive  two  hundred  lashes  on  my  bare  hack,  not  exceeding 
fifty  at  a  time.  I  was  then  remanded  to  jail  to  await  the  exe- 
cution of  my  sentence. 

Very  gloomy  looked  that  little  room  to  me  when  I  returned 
to  it,  with  a  horrid  crime  of  which,  Heaven  knows,  I  was  guilt- 
less, affixed  to  my  name,  and  the  prospect  of  a  cruel  punish- 
ment awaiting  me.  Who  may  tell  the  silent,  unexpressed  agony 
that  I  there  endured  ?  Certain  I  am,  that  the  nightly  stars  and 
the  old  pale  moon  looked  not  down  xipon  a  more  wretched 
heart.  There  I  sat,  looking  ever  and  again  at  the  stolid  Fanny, 
who  had  been  sentenced  to  the  work -house  for  a  limited  time. 
Since  the  death  of  her  infant  she  had  lost  all  her  loquacity, 
and  remained  in  a  kind  of  dreamy,  drowsy  state,  between  wak- 
ing and  sleeping. 

Through  how  many  scenes  of  vanished  days,  worked  the 
plough-share  of  memory,  upturning  the  fresh  earth,  where  lay 
the  buried  seeds  of  some  few  joys!  And,  sometimes,  a  sly, 
nestling  thought  of  Henry  hid  itself  away  in  the  most  covert 
folds  of  my  heart.  His  melancholy  bronze  face  had  cut  itself 
like  a  fine  cameo,  on  my  soul.  The  old,  withered  flowers, 
which  he  had  sent,  lay  carefully  concealed  in  a  corner  of  the 
cell.  Their  beauty  had  departed  like  a  dim  dream ;  but  a  little 
of  their  fragrance  still  remained  despite  decay. 

One  day,  after  the  trial,  I  was  much  honored  and  delighted 
by  a  visit  from  no  less  a  personage  than  Mr.  Trueman  himself. 

I  was  overcome,  and  had  not  power  to  speak  the  thanks  with 
which  my  grateful  heart  ran  over.  He  kindly  pitied  my  em- 
barrassment, and  relieved  me  by  saying, 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  are  thankful  to  me.  1  only  wish,  my  good 
girl,  that  my  speech  had  rescued  you  from  the  punishment  you 
have  to  suffer.     Believe  me,  I  deeply  pity  you  ;  and,  if  money 


CONVERSATION.  301 

could  avert  the  penalty  which  I  know  you  have  not  merited, 
I  would  relieve  you  from  its  infliction ;  but  nothing  more  can 
be  done  for  you.     You  must  bear  your  trouble  bravely." 

"  Oh,  my  kind,  noble  friend  !"  I  passionately  exclaimed, 
"words  like  these  would  arm  me  with  strength  to  brave  a  pun- 
ishment ten  times  more  severe  than  the  one  that  awaits  me. 
Sympathy  from  you  can  repay  me  for  any  suffering.  That 
a  noble  white  gentleman,  of  distinguished  talents,  should  stoop 
from  his  lofty  position  to  espouse  the  cause  of  a  poo>r  mulatto, 
is  to  me  as  pleasing  as  it  is  strange." 

"Alas,  my  good  girl,  you  and  all  of  your  wronged  and  injured 
race  are  objects  of  interest  and  affection  to  me.  I  would 
that  I  could  give  you  something  more  available  than  sympathy  : 
but  these  Southerners  are  a  knotty  people ;  their  prej  idices  of 
caste  and  color  grow  out,  unsightly  and  disgusting,  like  the  rude 
excrescences  upon  a  noble  tree,  eating  it  away,  and  suvking  up 
its  vital  sap.  These  Western  people  are  of  a  noble  nature, 
were  it  not  for  their  sectional  blemishes.  I  never  relied  upon 
the  many  statements  which  I  have  heard  at  the  i^brth,  taking 
them  as  natural  exaggerations ;  but  my  sojourn  here  has  proved 
them  to  be  true." 

I  then  told  him  of  the  discussion  that  I  had  overheard  be- 
tween him  and  Mr.  Winston. 

"  Did  you  hear  that?"  he  asked  with  a  smile.  ''Winston 
has  been  very  cool  toward  me  ever  since  ;  yet  he  is  a  man  with 
some  fine  points  of  character,  and  considerable  mental  cultiva- 
tion. This  one  Southern  feeling,  or  rather  prejudice,  how- 
ever, has  well-nigh  corrupted  him.  He  is  too  fiery  and  irrita- 
ble to  argue  ;  but  all  Southerners  are  so.  They  cannot  allow 
themselves  to  discuss  these  matters.  Witness,  for  instance, 
the  conduct  of  their  Congressional  debaters.  Do  they  reason  ? 
Whenever  a  matter  is  reduced  to  argumentation,  the  South- 
erner flies  off  at  a  tangent,  resents  everything  as  personal,  de- 
scends to  abuse,  and  thus  closes  the  debate." 

I  ventured  to  ask  him  some  questions  in  relation  to  Fred 
Douglas ;  to  all  of  which  he  returned  satisfactory  answers. 
He  informed  me  that  Douglas  had  once  been   a  slave  ;  that  ho 


302        AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

was  now  a  man  of  social  position ;  of  very  decided  talent  and 
energy.  ''I  know  of  no  man,"  continued  Mr.  Trueman,  "who 
is  more  deserving  of  public  trust  than  Douglas.  He  conducts 
himself  with  extreme  modesty  and  propriety,  and  a  quiet  dig- 
nity that  inclines  the  most  fastidious  in  his  favor." 

He  then  cited  the  case  of  Miss  Greenfield  {the  black  swan), 
showing  that  my  race  was  susceptible  of  cultivation  and  refine- 
ment in  a  high  degree. 

Thus  inspired,  I  poured  forth  raj  full  soul  to  him.  I  told 
him  how,  in  secret,  I  had  studied ;  how  diligently  I  had  search- 
ed after  knowledge  ;  how  I  longed  for  the  opportunity  to  im- 
prove my  poor  talents.  I  spoke  freely,  and  with  a  degree  of 
nervous  enthusiasm  that  seemed  to  affect  him. 

"Ann,"  he  said,  and  large  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  "it  is  a 
shame  for  you  to  be  kept  in  bondage.  A  proud,  aspiring  soul 
like  yours,  if  once  free  to  follow  its  impulses,  might  achieve 
much.  Can  you  not  labor  to  buy  yourself  ?  At  odd  times  do 
extra  work,  and,  by  your  saviugs,  you  may,  in  the  course  of 
years,  be  enabled  to  buy  yourself." 

"  My  dear  sir,  I've  no  '  odd  times'  for  extra  work,  or  I  would 
gladly  avail  myself  of  them.  Lazy  I  am  not ;  but  my  mistress 
requires  all  my  time  and  labor.  If  she  were  to  discover  that  I 
was  working,  even  at  night  for  myself,  she  would  punish  me 
severely." 

I  said  this  in  a  mournful  tone  ;  for  I  felt  that  despair  was 
my  portion.     He  was  silent  for  awhile  ;  then  said, 

"Well,  you  must  do  the  best  you  can.  I  would  that  I  could 
advise  you ;  but  now  I  must  leave.  A  longer  stay  would 
excite  suspicion.  You  heard  what  tbey  said  the  other  day 
about  Abolitionists." 

I  remembered  it  well,  and  was  distressed  to  think  that  ho 
had  been  abused  on  my  account. 

With  many  kind  words  he  took  his  leave,  and  I  felt  as  if 
the  sunshine  had  suddenly  been  extinguished. 

During  his  entire  visit  poor  Fanny  had  slept.  She  lay  like 
one  in  an  opium  trance.  For  hours  after  his  departure  she  re- 
mained so,  and  much  time  was  left  me  for  reflection. 


CHAPTEE    XXXII. 

EXECUTION  OF  THE  SENTENCE A  CHANGE HOPE. 

On  the  last  and  concluding  day  of  the  term  of  the  court,  the 
jailer  signified  to  me  that  the  constahle  would,  on  the  morrow, 
administer  the  first  fifty  lashes  :  and,  of  course,  I  passed  the 
night  in  great  trepidation. 

But  the  morning  came  bright  and  clear,  and  the  jailer,  accom- 
panied by  Constable  Calcraft,  entered. 

"  Come,  girl,  said  the  latter,  ''  I  have  to  execute  the  sentence 
upon  you." 

Without  one  word,  I  followed  him  into  the  jail  yard. 

"  Strip    yourself  to  the  waist,"  said  the  constable. 

I  dared  not  hesitate,  though  feminine  delicacy  was  rudely 
shocked.     With  a  prayer  to  heaven  for  fortitude,  I  obeyed. 

Then,  with  a  strong  cowhide,  he  inflicted  fifty  lashes  (the  first 
instalment  of  the  sentence)  upon  my  bare  back;  each  lacerat- 
ing it  to  the  bone.  I  was  afterwards  compelled  to  put  my 
clothes  on  over  my  raw,  bloody  back,  without  being  allowed  to 
wash  away  the  clotted  gore ;  for,  upon  asking  for  water  to 
cleanse  myself,  I  was  harshly  refused,  and  quickly  re-con- 
ducted to  the  cell,  where,  wounded,  mortified,  and  anguish- 
stricken,  I  was  left  to  myself. 

Oh,  God  of  the  world-forgotten  Africa  !  Thou  dost  see  these 
things  ;  Thou  dost  hear  the  cries  which  daily  and  nightly  we 
are  sending  up  to  Thee  !  On  that  lonely,  wretched  night 
Thou  wert  with  me,  and  my  prison  became  as  a  radiant  man- 
sion, for  angels  cheered  me  there  !  Glory  to  God  for  the  cross 
which  He  sent  me  ;  for  it  led  me  on  to  Him. 

[3CS] 


304  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Poor  Fanny,  after  her  sentence  Avas  pronounced,  was  soon 
sent  to  the  work-house;  so  I  was  alone.  The  little  Testa- 
ment which  Louise  had  given  me,  was  all  the  company 
that  I  desired.  Its  rich  and  varied  words  were  as  manna  to  my 
hungry  soul;  and  its  blessed  promises  rescued  me  from  a  dread- 
ful bankruptcy  of  faith. 

Subsequently,  and  at  three  different  times,  I  was  led  forth  to 
receive  the  remainder  of  my  punishment. 

After  the  last  portion  was  given,  I  was  allowed  to  go  to  the 
kitchen  of  the  jail  and  wash  myself  and  dress  in  some  clean 
clothes,  which  Miss  Jane  had  sent  me.  I  was  then  conducted 
by  the  constable  to  the  hotel. 

Miss  Jane  met  me  very  distantly,  saying — 

"  I  trust  you  are  somewhat  humbled,  Ann,  and  will  in  future 
be  a  better  nigger." 

I  was  in  but  a  poor  mood  to  take  rebukes  and  reproaches  ; 
for  my  flesh  was  perfectly  raw,  the  intervals  between  the  whip- 
pings having  been  so  short  as  not  to  allow  the  gashes  even  to 
close ;  so  that  upon  this,  the  final  day,  my  back  presented  one 
mass  of  filth  and  clotted  gore.  I  was  then,  as  may  be  sup- 
posed, in  a  very  irritable  humor,  but  a  slave  is  not  allowed  to 
have  feeling.  It  is  a  privilege  denied  him,  because  his  skin  is 
black. 

I  did  not  go  out  of  Miss  Jane's  room,  except  on  matters  of 
business,  about  which  she  sent  me.  I  would,  then,  go  slipping 
around,  afraid  of  meeting  Henry.  I  did  not  wish  him  to  see 
me  in  that  mutilated  condition.  I  saw  Louise  in  Miss  Jane's 
room  ;  but  there  she  merely  nodded  to  me.  Subsequently  we 
met  in  a  retired  part  of  the  hall,  and  there  she  expressed  that 
generous  and  friendly  sympathy  which  I  knew  she  so  warmly 
cherished  for  me. 

Somehow  or  other  she  had  contrived  to  insinuate  herself 
wondrously  into  Miss  Jane's  good  graces;  and  all  her  influence 
she  endeavored  to  use  in  my  favor. 

In  this  private  interview  she  told  me  that  she  would  induce 


THE    RUSE.  305 

-Miss  Jane  to  let  me  sleep  in  her  room  ;  and  she  thought  she 
knew  what  key  to  take  her  on. 

"  If,"  added  she,  "  I  get  you  to  my  apartment,  I  will  care  for 
you  well.  I  will  wash  and  dress  your  wounds,  and  render  you 
every  attention  in  my  power." 

I  watched,  with  admiration,  her  tactics  in  managing  Miss 
Jane.  That  evening  when  I  was  seated  in  an  obscure  corner 
of  the  room,  Miss  Jane  was  lolling  in  a  large  arm-chair,  play- 
ing with  a  bouquet  that  had  been  sent  her  by  a  gentleman. 
This  bouquet  had  been  delivered  to  her,  as  I  afterwards  learned, 
by  Louise.  Miss  Jane  had  grown  to  be  fashionable  indeed  ; 
and  had  two  favorite  beaixx,  with  whom  she  interchanged  notes, 
and  Louise  had  been  selected  as  a  messenger. 

On  this  occasion,  the  wily  mulatto  came  up  to  her,  rather 
familiarly,  I  thought,  and  said — 

<(  Ah,  you  are  amusing  yourself  with  the  Captain's  flowers  ! 
I  must  tell  him  of  it.  Dear  sakes  !  but  it  will  please  him ;" 
she  then  whispered  something  to  her,  at  which  both  of  them 
laughed  heartily. 

After  this  Miss  Jane  was  in  a  very  decided  good  humor,  and 
Louise  fussed  about  the  apartment  pretty  much  as  she  pleased. 
At  length,  throwing  open  the  window,  she  cried  out — 

''How  close  the  air  is  here!  Why,  Mrs.  St.  Lucian,  the 
fashionable,  dashing  lady  who  occupied  this  room  just  before 
you,  Mrs.  Somerville,  wouldn't  allow  three  persons  to  be  in  it 
at  a  time;  and  her  servant-girl  always  slept  in  my  room.  By 
the  way,  that  just  reminds  me  how  impolite  I've  been  to  you  ; 
do  excuse  me,  and  I  will  be  glad  to  relieve  you  by  letting  Ann 
go  to  my  room  of  nights." 

•'  Oh,  it  will  trouble  you,  Louise." 

"  Don't  talk  or  think  of  troubling  me  ;  but  come  along  girl," 
she  said,  turning  to  me. 

''  Go  with  Louise,  Ann,"  added  Miss  Jane,  as  she  perceived 
me  hesitate,  ''but  come  early  in  the  morning  to  get  me  ready 
for  breakfast." 

Happy  even  for  so  small  a  favor  as  this,  I  followed  Louise 


306         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

to  her  room.  There  I  found  everything  very  comfortable  and' 
neat.  A  nice,  downy  bed,  with  its  snowy  covering ;  a  bright- 
colored  carpet,  a  little  bureau,  washstand,  clock,  rocking-chair, 
and  one  or  two  pictures,  with  a  few  crocks  of  flowers,  com- 
pleted the  tasteful  furniture  of  this  apartment. 

All  this,  I  inly  said,  is  the  arrangement  and  taste  of  a  mu- 
latto in  the  full  enjoyment  of  her  freedom  !  Do  not  her  thrift 
and  industry  disprove  the  oft-repeated  charge  of  indolence  that 
is  made  upon  the  negro  race  ? 

She  seemed  to  read  my  thoughts,  and  remarked,  "  You  are 
surprised,  Ann,  to  see  my  room  so  nice  !  I  read  the  wonder  in 
your  face.  I  have  marked  it  before,  in  the  countenances  of 
slaves.  They  are  taught,  from  their  infancy  up,  to  regard 
themselves  as  unfit  for  the  blessings  of  free,  civilized  life  ;  and 
I  am  happy  to  give  the  lie,  by  my  own  manner  of  living,  to  this 
rude  charge." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  free,  Louise,  and  how  did  you  ob- 
tain your  freedom  ?" 

"  It  is  a  long  story,"  she  answered ;  "  you  must  be  inclined  to 
sleep  ;  you  need  rest.  At  some  other  time  I'll  tell  you.  Here, 
take  this  arm-chair,  it  is  soft ;  and  your  back  is  wounded  and 
sore ;  I  am  going  to  dress  it  for  you." 

So  saying,  she  left  the  room,  but  quickly  returned  with  a 
basin  of  warm  water  and  a  little  canteen  of  grease.  She  very 
kindly  bade  me  remove  my  dress,  then  gently,  with  a  soft 
linten-rag,  washed  my  back,  greased  it,  and  made  me  put  on 
one  of  her  linen  chemises  and  a  nice  gown,  and  giving  me  a 
stimulant,  bade  me  rest  myself  for  the  night  upon  her  bed, 
which  was  clean,  white,  and  tempting. 

When  she  thought  I  was  soundly  sleeping,  she  removed  from 
a  little  swinging  book-shelf  a  well-worn  Bible.  After  reading  a 
chapter  or  so,  she  sank  upon  her  knees  in  prayer  !  There  may 
be  those  who  would  laugh  and  scoff  at  the  piety  of  this  woman, 
because  of  her  tawny  complexion  ;  but  the  Great  Judge,  to 
whose  ear  alone  her  supplication  was  made,  disregards  all  such 


MR.  trubman's  kindness.  307 

distinctions.  Her  soul  -was  as  precious  to  Him,  as  though  her 
complexion  had  been  of  the  most  spotless  snow. 

On  the  following  morning,  whilst  I  was  arranging  Miss  Jane's 
toilette,  she  said  to  me,  in  rather  a  kind  tone  : 

"Ann,  Mr.  Summerville  wants  to  sell  you,  and  purchase  a 
smaller  and  cheaper  girl  for  me.  Now,  if  you  behave  yourself 
well,  I'll  allow  you  to  choose  your  own  home." 

This  was  more  kindness  than  I  expected  to  receive  from  her, 
and  I  thanked  her  heartily. 

All  that  day  my  heart  was  dreaming  of  a  new  home — perhaps 
a  kind,  good  one  !  On  the  gallery  I  met'  Mr.  Trueman  (I  love 
to  write  his  name).  Rushing  eagerly  up  to  him,  I  offered  my 
hand,  all  oblivious  of  the  wide  chasm  that  the  difference  of  race 
had  placed  between  us ;  but,  if  that  thought  had  occurred  to 
me,  his  benignant  smile  would  have  put  it  to  flight.  Ah,  he 
was  the  true  reformer,  who  illustrated,  in  his  own  deportment, 
the  much  talked-of  theory  of  human  brotherhood !  He,  with  all 
his  learning,  his  native  talent,  his  social  position  and  legal  prom- 
inence, could  condescend  to  speak  in  a  familiar  spirit  to  the 
lowliest  slave,  and  this  made  me,  soured  to  harshness,  feel  at 
ease  in  his  presence. 

I  told  him  that  I  was  fast  recovering  from  the  effects  of  my 
whipping-    I  spoke  of  Louise's  kindness,  &c. 

"  I  am  to  be  sold,  Mr.  Trueman ;  I  wish  that  you  would  buy 
me." 

"  My  good  girl,  if  I  had  the  means  I  would  not  hesitate  to 
make  the  purchase,  and  instantly  draw  up  your  free  papers  ; 
but  I  am,  at  the  present,  laboring  under  great  pecuniary  em- 
barrassments, which  deny  me  the  right  of  exercising  that  gener- 
osity which  my  heart  prompts  in  this  case." 

I  thanked  him,  over  and  over  again,  for  his  kindness.  I  felt 
not  a  little  distressed  when  he  told  me  that  he  should  leave  for 
Boston  early  on  the  following  day.  In  bidding  me  adieu,  he 
slipped,  very  modestly,  into  my  hand  a  ten-dollar  bill,  but  this 
I  could  not  accept  from  one  to  whom  I  was  already  heavily  in- 
debted. 


308         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

"No,  ruy  good  friend,  I  cannot  trespass  so  much  upon  you. 
Already  I  am  largely  your  debtor.  Take  back  this  money.' 
I  offered  him  the  bill,  but  bis  face  colored  deeply,  as  be  replied: 

''  No,  Ann,  you  would  not  wound  my  feelings,  I  am  sure." 

''Not  for  my  freedom,"  I  earnestly  answered. 

"  Then  accept  tbis  trifling  gift.  Let  it  be  among  the  first  of 
your  savings,  as  my  contribution,  toward  the  purchase-money  for 
your  freedom."  Seeing  that  I  hesitated,  he  said,  "  if  you  per- 
sist in  refusing,  you  will  offend  me." 

"  Anything  but  that,"  I  eagerly  cried,  as  I  took  the  money 
from  that  blessed,  charity-dispensing  band. 

And  this  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him  for  many  years  ;  and, 
when  A\re  again  met,  the  shadow  of  deeper  sorrows  was  resting 
on  my  brow. 

#  *  *  *  * 

Several  weeks  bad  elapsed  since  Miss  Jane's  announcement 
that  I  was  to  be  sold,  and  I  had  heard  no  more  of  it.  I  dared 
not  renew  the  subject  to  her,  no  matter  from  what  motive,  for 
she  would  have  construed  it  as  impudence.  But  my  time  was 
now  passing  in  comparative  pleasure,  for  Miss  Jane  was  wholly 
engrossed  by  fun,  frolic,  and  dissipation.  Her  mornings  were 
spent  in  making  or  receiving  fashionable  calls,  and  her  after- 
noons were  devoted  to  sleep,  Avhilst  the  night-time  was  given 
up  entirely  to  theatres,  parties,  concerts,  and  such  amusements. 
Consequently  my  situation,  as  servant,  became  pretty  much  that 
of  a  sinecure.  Oh,  what  delightful  hours  I  passed  in  Louise's 
room,  reading  !  I  devoured  everything  in  the  shape  of  a  book 
that  fell  into  my  hands.  I  began  to  improve  astonishingly  in 
my  studies.  It  seemed  that  knowledge  came  to  me  by  magic.  I 
was  surprised  at  the  rapidity  of  my  oAvn  advancement.  In  the 
afternoons,  Hem-y  bad  a  good  deal  of  leisure,  and  he  used  to 
steal  round  to  Louise's  room,  and  sit  with  us  upon  a  little  bal- 
cony that  fronted  it,  and  looked  out  upon  a  beautiful  view. 
There  lay  the  placid  Ohio,  and  just  beyond  it  ran  the  blessed 
Indiana  shore  !  "  Why  was  I  not  born  on  that  side  of  the 
river  ?"  I  used  to  say  to  Henry,  as  I  pointed  across  the  water. 


LOUISE'S    STORY.  309 

"  Or  why,"  he  would  answer,  as  his  dark  eye  grew  intensely 
black,  "  were  our  ancestors  ever  stolen  from  Africa  V 

"  These  are  questions,"  said  the  more  philosophical  Louise, 
'that  we  must  not  propose.  They  destroy  the  little  happiness 
we  already  enjoy." 

"  Yes,  you  can  afford  to  talk  thus,  Louise,  for  you  are  free ; 
hut  we,  poor  slaves,  know  slavery  from  actual  experience  and 
endurance,"  said  Henry. 

"I  have  had  my  experience  too,"  she  answered,  "and  a  dark 
one  has  it  been." 

The  evening  on  which  this  conversation  occurred,  was  un- 
usually fair  and  calm.  I  shall  ever  remember  it.  There  we 
three  sat,  with  mournful  memories  working  in  our  breasts ;  there 
each  looking  at  the  other,  murmuring  secretly,  "  Mine  is  the 
heaviest  trouble  ! " 

"Louise,"  I  said,  "tell  us  how  you  broke  the  chains  of 
bondage." 

"  I  was,"  said  she,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  a  slave  to  a 
family  of  wealth,  residing  a  few  miles  from  New  Orleans.  I 
am,  as  you  see,  but  one-third  African.  My  mother  was  a  bright 
mulatto.  My  father  a  white  gentleman,  the  brother  of  my  mis- 
tress. Louis  Dc  Calmo  was  his  name.  My  mother  was  a 
housemaid,  and  only  fifteen  years  of  age  at  my  birth.  She 
was  of  a  meek,  quiet  disposition,  and  bore  with  patience  all  her 
mistress'  reproaches  and  harshness ;  but,  when  alone  with  my 
father,  she  urged  him  to  buy  me,  and  he  promised  her  he  would; 
still  he  put  her  off  from  time  to  time  She  often  said  to  him 
that  for  herself  she  did  not  care;  bat,  for  me,  she  was  all  anx- 
iety. She  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  her  child  remaining  in 
slavery.  All  her  bright  hopes  for  me  were  suddenly  brought  to 
a  close  by  my  father's  unexpected  death.  He  was  killed  by 
the  explosion  of  a  steamboat  on  the  lower  Mississippi,  and  his 
horribly-mangled  body  brought  home  to  be  buried.  My  mother 
loved  him  ;  and,  in  her  grief  for  his  death,  she  had  a  double 
cause  for  sorrow.  By  it  her  child  was  debarred  the  privilege 
of  freedom.     I  was  but  nine  years  of  age  at  the  time,  but  I  well 


310  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

remember  her  wild  lamentation.  Often  she  would  catch  me  to 
her  heart,  and  cry  out,  '  if  you  could  only  die  I  should  be  so 
happy  ;'  but  I  did  not.  I  lived  on  and  grew  rapidly.  We  had 
a  very  kind  overseer,  and  his  son  took  a  great  fancy  to  me. 
He  taught  me  to  read  and  write.  I  was  remarkably  quick. 
When  I  was  but  fifteen,  I  recollect  mistress  fancied,  from  my 
likely  appearance  and  my  delicate,  gliding  movements,  that  she 
would  make  a  dining-room  servant  of  me.  I  was  taken  into 
the  house,  and  thus  deprived  of  the  instructions  which  the 
overseer's  son  had  so  faithfully  rendered  me.  I  have  often  read 
half  of  the  night.  Now  I  approach  a  melancholy  part  of  my 
story.  Master  becoming  embarrassed  in  his  business,  he  must 
part  with  some  of  his  property.  Of  course  the  slaves  went. 
My  mother  was  numbered  among  the  lot.  I  longed  and  begged 
to  be  sold  with  her ;  but  to  this  mistress  would  not  consent, — 
she  considered  me  too  valuable  as  a  house-girl.  Well,  mother 
and  I  parted.  None  can  ever  know  my  wretchedness,  unless 
they  have  suffered  a  similar  grief,  when  I  saw  her  borne  weeping 
and  screaming  away  from  me.  I  have  never  heard  from  her 
since.  Where  she  went  or  into  whose  hands  sho  fell,  I  never 
knew.  She  was  sold  to  the  highest  bidder,  under  the  auc- 
tioneer's hammer,  in  the  New  Orleans  market.  I  lived  on  as 
best  I  could,  bearing  an  aching  heart,  whipped  for  every  little 
offence,  serving,  as  a  bond-woman,  her  who  was,  by  nature  and 
blood,  my  Aunt.  After  a  year  or  so  I  was  sold  to  James  Can- 
field,  a  bachelor  gentleman  in  New  Orleans,  and  I  lived  with 
him,  as  a  wife,  for  a  number  of  years.  I  had  several  beautiful 
children,  though  none  lived  to  be  more  than  a  few  months  old. 
At  the  death  of  this  man  I  was  set  free  by  his  will,  and  three 
hundred  dollars  were  bequeathed  me  by  him.  I  had  saved  a 
good  deal  of  money  during  his  life-time,  and  this,  with  his  legacy, 
made  me  independent.  I  remained  in  the  South  but  a  short 
time.  For  two  years  after  his  death  I  sojourned  in  the  North, 
sometimes  hiring  myself  out  as  chambermaid,  and  at  others  liv- 
ing quietly  on  my  means  ;  but  I  must  work.  In  activity  I  stifle 
memory,  and  for  awhile  am  happy,  or,  at  least,  tranquil." 


henry's  sorrow.  311 

After  this  synopsis  of  her  history,  Louise  was  silent.  She 
bent  her  head  upon  her  haud,  and  mused  abstractedly. 

"  I  think,  Henry,  you  are  a  slave,"  I  said,  as  I  turned  my  eye 
upon  his  mournful  face. 

"  Yes,  and  to  a  hard  master,"  was  the  quick  reply ;  "  but  he 
has  promised  me  I  shall  buy  myself.  I  am  to  pay  him  one 
thousand  dollars,  in  instalments  of  one  hundred  dollars  each. 
Three  of  these  instalments  I  have  already  paid." 

"  Does  he  receive  any  hire  for  your  services  at  this  hotel  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  the  proprietor  pays  him  one  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars a  year  for  me." 

"How  have  you  made  the  money  ?" 

"  By  working  at  night  and  on  holidays,  going  on  errands,  and 
doing  little  jobs  for  gentlemen  boarding  in  the  house.  Some- 
times I  get  little  donations  from  kind-hearted  persons,  Christmas 
gifts  in  money,  &c.     All  of  it  is  saved." 

"  You  must  work  very  hard." 

"  Oh  yes,  it's  very  little  sleep  I  ever  get.  How  old  would 
you  think  me  ?" 

"  Thirty-five,"  I  answered,  as  I  looked  at  his  furrowed  face. 

"  That  is  what  almost  every  one  says ;  yet  I  am  only  twenty- 
five.     All  these  wrinkles  and  hard  spots  are  from  work." 

"  You  ought  to  rest  awhile,"  I  ventured  to  suggest. 

"  Oh,  I'll  wait  until  I  am  my  own  master;  then  I'll  rest." 

"  But  jon  may  die  before  that  time  comes." 

"  So  I  may,  so  I  may,"  he  repeated  despondingly.  "All  my 
family  have  died  early  and  from  over-work.  Sometimes  I  think 
freedom  too  great  a  blessing  for  me  ever  to  realize." 

He  brushed  a  tear  from  his  eye  with  the  back  of  his  hand.  I 
looked  at  him,  so  young  and  energetic,  yet  lonely.  Noble  and 
handsome  was  his  face,  despite  the  lines  of  care  and  labor.  What 
wonder  that  a  soft  feeling  took  possession  of  my  heart,  particu- 
larly when  I  remembered  how  he  had  gladdened  my  imprison- 
ment with  kind  messages  and  the  gift  of  flowers.  I  did  but 
follow  an  irrepressible  and  spontaneous  impulse,  when  I  said 
with  earnestness. 


312  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Do  not  work  so  hard,  Henry." 

He  looked  me  full  in  the  face.  Why  did  my  eye  droop 
beneath  that  warm,  inquiring  gaze ;  and  why  did  he  ask  so 
low,  in  a  half  whisper  : 

"  Should  I  die  who  will  grieve  for  me  V 

And  did  not  my  uplifted  glance  tell  him  who  would  1  We 
understood  each  other.  Our  hearts  had  spoken,  and  what  fol- 
lowed may  easily  be  guessed.  Evening  after  evening  we  met 
upon  that  balcony  to  pledge  our  souls  in  earnest  vows.  Henry's 
eye  grew  brighter ;  he  worked  the  harder  ;  but  his  pile  of 
money  did  not  increase  as  it  had  done.  Many  a  little  present 
to  me,  many  a  rare  nosegay,  that  was  purchased  at  a  price  he 
was  not  able  to  afford,  put  off  to  a  greater  distance  his  day  of 
freedom.  Like  a  green,  luxuriant  spot  in  the  wide  desert  of  a 
lonely  life,  seems  to  me  the  memory  of  those  hours  ?  On  Sun- 
day evenings,  when  his  labor  was  over,  which  was  generally 
about  eight  o'clock,  we  walked  through  the  city,  and  on  moon- 
light nights  we  strayed  upon  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  and  plan- 
ned for  the  future. 

Henry  was  to  buy  himself,  then  go  North,  and  labor  in  some 
hotel,  or  at  whatever  business  he  could  make  the  most  money  ; 
then  he  would  return  to  buy  me.  This  was  one  of  our  plans  ; 
but  as  often  as  Ave  talked,  we  made  a  new  one. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  be  so  happy,  Ann,"  he  would  exclaim. 

Then  I  would  repeat  the  often-asked  question,  "  Where  shall 
we  live  ?" 

Sometimes  we  decided  upon  New  York  city  ;  then  a  village 
in  the  State  of  New  York  ;  but  I  think  Henry's  preference 
was  a  Canadian  town.  Idle  speculators  that  we  were,  we 
seldom  adhered  long  to  our  preference  for  any  one  spot  ! 

"At  least,  clear,"  he  used  to  say,  in  his  encouraging  way, 
''  we  will  hunt  a  home ;  and,  no  matter  where  we  find  it,  we 
can  make  it  a  happy  one  if  we  are  together." 

And  to  this  my  heart  gave  a  warm  echo.  I  was  beginning 
to  be  happy  ;  for  imagination  painted  joys  in '  the  future,  and 
the  present  was   not   all    mournful,  for    Henry  was  with    me  ! 


•      THE    BRIGHTNESS   OF    LOVE.  313 

Tho  same  roof  covered  us.  Twenty  times  a-day  I  met  him  in 
the  dining-room,  hall,  or  in  the  lobby,  and  he  was  always  with 
me  in  the  evening. 

Slaves  as  we  were,  I've  often  thought  as  we  wandered  be- 
neath the  golden  light  of  the  stars,  that,  for  the  time  being, 
we  were  as  happy  as  mortals  could  be.  Young  first-love  knit 
the  air  in  a  charmed  silver  mist  around  us  ;  and,  hand  in  hand, 
we  trod  the  wave-washed  shore,  always  with  our  eyes  turned 
toward  the  North,  the  bourne  whither  all  our  thoughts  inclined. 

"  Does  not  the  north  star  point  us  to  our  future  home  ?" 
Henry  frequently  asked.  I  love  to  recall  this  one  sunny  epoch 
in  my  life.     For  months,  not  an  unpleasant  thing  occurred. 

Immediately  after  my  trial,  Monkton  left  the  city,  and  went, 
as  I  understood,  south.  Miss  Jane  was  busied  with  fashion  and 
gayety.  Mr.  Summerville  was  engaged  at  his  business,  and 
every  one  whom  I  saw  was  kind  to  me.  So  I  may  record  the 
fact  that  for  a  while  I  was  happy  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII, 

sold  —  life   as  a  slave  —  pen  —  charles'  story  —  uncle 
peter's  trouble — a  star  peeping  forth  from  the  cloud. 

Whilst  the  hours  thus  rosily  slided  away,  and  I  dreamed 
amid  the  verdure  of  existenee,  the  syren  charmed  me  wisely, 
indeed,  with  her  beautiful  promises.  Poor,  simple-hearted, 
trusting  slaves  !  We  could  not  see  upon  what  a  rocking  bridge 
our  feet  were  resting,  how  slippery  and  unsubstantial  was  the 
flowery  declivity  whereon  we  stood.  There  we  reposed  in  the 
gentle  light  of  a  happy  trance ;  we  saw  not  the  clouds,  dark 
and  tempest-charged,  that  were  rising  rapidly  to  hide  the  stars 
from  our  view. 

One  Sunday  afternoon,  Henry  having  finished  his  work  much 
earlier  than  usual,  and  done  some  little  act  whereby  the  good 
will  of  his  temporary  master  (the  keeper  of  the  hotel)  was  pro- 
pitiated, and  Miss  Jane  and  Mr.  Summerville  having  gone  out, 
I  willingly  consented  to  his  proposal  to  take  a  walk.  We  ac- 
cordingly wandered  off  to  a  beautiful  wood,  just  without  tho  city 
limits,  a  very  popular  resort  with  the  negroes  and  poorer  classes, 
though  it  was  the  only  pretty  green  woodland  near  the  city. 
Yet,  because  the  "  common  people  and  negroes"  (a  Ken- 
tucky phrase)  went  there,  it  was  voted  vulgar,  and  avoided  by 
the  rich  and  refined.     One  blessing  was  thus  given  to  the  poor  ! 

Henry  and  I  sought  a  retired  part  of  the  grove,  and,  seating 
ourselves  on  an  old,  moss-grown  log,  we  talked  with  as  much 
hope,  and  indulged  in  as  rosy  dreams,  as  happier  and  lordlier 
lovers.  For  three  bright  hours  we  remained  idly  rambling 
through  the  flower-realm  of  imagination ;  but,  as  the  long 
shadows  began  to  fall  among  the  leaves,  wo  prepared  to  return 
home. 

1314] 


SOLD.  315 

That  night  when  I  assisted  Miss  Jane  in  getting  ready  for 
bed,  I  observed  that  she  was  unusually  gloomy  and  petulant. 
I  could  do  nothing  to  please  her  ;  she  boxed  my  ears  repeat- 
edly ;  stuck  pins  in  me,  called  me  "  detestable  nigger,"  &c. 
Even  the  presence  of  Louise  failed  to  restrain  her,  and  I  knew 
that  something  awful  had  happened. 

For  two  or  three  days  this  cloud  that  hung  about  her  deep- 
ened and  darkened,  until  she  absolutely  became  unendurable. 
I  often  found  her  eyes  red  and  swollen,  as  though  she  had 
spent  the  entire  night  in  weeping. 

Mr.  Summerville  was  gloomy  and  morose,  never  saying  much, 
and  always  speaking  harshly  to  his  wife. 

At  length  the  explosion  came.  One  morning  he  said  to  me, 
"  gather  up  your  clothes,  Ann,  and  come  with  me  ;  I  have  sold 
you." 

Though  I  was  stricken  as  by  a  thunderbolt,  I  dared  not 
express  my  surprise,  or  even  ask  who  had  bought  me.  All 
that  I  ventured  to  say  was, 

"Master  William,  I  have  a  trunk." 

"Well,  shoulder  it  yourself.  I'm  not  going  to  pay  for  having 
it  taken."       - 

Though  my  heart  was  wrung  I  said  nothing,  and,  lifting  up 
my  trunk,  beneath  the  weight  of  which  I  nearly  sank,  I  followed 
Master  William  out  of  the  house. 

''  Good-bye,  Miss  Jane,"  I  said. 

"  Good-bye,  and  be  a  good  girl,"  she  replied,  kindly,  and  my 
heart  almost  softened  toward  her ;  for  in  that  moment  I  felt  as 
if  deserted  by  every  faculty. 

"  Come  on,  Ann,  come  on,"  urged  Master  William  ;  and 
I  mechanically  obeyed. 

In  the  cross-hall  I  met  Louise,  who  exclaimed,  <;  Why,  Ann, 
where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Louise,  I'm  sold." 

"  Sold  !     Who's  bought  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  know — Master  William  didn't  tell  me." 

"  Who's  bought  her,  Mr.  Summerville  V 


316  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  The  man  to  whom  I  sold  her,"  he  answered,  with  a  laugh. 

"  But  who  is  he  ?"  persisted  Louise,  without  noticing  the 
ioke. 

"  Well,  Atkins,  a  negro-trader  down  here,  on  Second  street." 

"  Good  gracious !"  she  cried  out ;  then,  turning  to  me,  said, 
"  does  Henry  know  it  ?" 

"  I  have  not  seen  him."  She  darted  off  from  us,  and  we 
walked  on.  I  hoped  that  she  would  not  see  Henry,  for  I  could 
not  bear  to  meet  him.  It  would  dispossess  me  of  the  little 
forced  composure  that  I  had;  but,  alas  !  for  the  fulfilment  of  my 
hopes  !  in  the  lower  hall,  with  a  countenance  full  of  terror,  he 
stood. 

"  What  are  3tou  going  to  do  with  Ann,  Mr.  Summerville  F 
he  inquired. 

"  I  have  sold  her  to  Atkins,  and  am  now  taking  her  to  the 
pen  V 

Alas  !  though  his  life,  his  blood,  his  soul  cried  out  against  it, 
he  dared  not  offer  any  objection  or  entreaty  ;  but  oh,  that  hope- 
less look  of  brokenness  of  heart  !  I  see  it  now,  and  "  it  comes 
over  me  like  the  raven  o'er  the  infected  house." 

"  I'll  take  your  trunk  round  for  you,  Ann,  to-night.  It  is  too 
heavy  for  you,"  and  so  saying,  he  kindly  removed  it  from  my 
shoulder.  This  little  act  of  kindness  was  the  added  drop  to  the 
already  full  glass,  and  my  heart  overflowed.  I  wept  heartily. 
His  tender,  "  don't  cry,  Ann,"  only  made  me  weep  the  more ; 
and  when  I  looked  up  and  saw  his  own  eyes  full  of  tears,  and 
his  lip  quivering  with  the  unspoken  pang,  I  felt  (for  the  slave  at 
least)  how  wretched  a  possession  is  life! 

Master  William  cut  short  this  parting  interview,  by  saying, 

"  Never  mind  that  trunk,  Henry,  Ann  can  carry  it  very  well." 

And,  as  I  was  about  to  re-shoulder  it,  Henry  said, 

"No,  Ann,  you  mustn't  carry  it.  I'll  do  it  for  you  to-night, 
when  my  work  is  over.  She  is  a  woman,  Mr.  Summerville, 
and  it's  heavy  for  her ;  but  it  will  not  be  anything  for  me." 

"  Well,  if  you  have  a  mind  to,  you  may  do  it ;  but  I  haven't 
any  time  to  parley  now,  come  on." 


THE    TRADER.  317 

Henry  pressed  my  hand  affectionately,  and  I  saw  the  tears 
roll  in  a  stream  down  his  bronzed  cheeks.  I  did  not  trust  my- 
self to  speak  ;  I  merely  returned  the  pressure  of  his  hand,  and 
silently  followed  Master  William. 

Through  the  streets,  up  one  and  across  another,  we  went, 
until  suddenly  we  stopped  in  front  of  a  two-story  brick  house 
with  an  iron  fence  in  front.  Covering  a  small  portion  of  the 
front  view  of  the  main  building,  an  office  had  been  erected,  a 
plain,  uncarpeted  room,  from  the  door  of  which  projected  a  sheet- 
iron  sign,  advertising  the  passers-by,  "  negroes  bought  and  sold 
here."  We  walked  into  this  room,  and  upon  the  table  found  a 
small  bell,  which  Mr.  Summerville  rang.  In  answer  to  this, 
a  neatly-dressed  negro  boy  appeared.  To  Master  William's 
interrogatory,  "  Is  Mr.  Atkins  in  V  he  answered,  most  obse- 
quiously, that  he  was,  and  instantly  withdrew.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments the  door  opened,  and  a  heavy  man  about  five  feet  ten 
inches  entered.  He  was  of  a  most  forbidding  appearance  ;  a 
tan-colored  complexion,  with  very  black  hair  and  whiskers, 
and  mean,  watery,  milky,  diseased-looking  eyes.  He  limped  as 
he  walked,  one  leg  being  shorter  than  the  other,  and  carried  a 
huge  stick  to  assist  his  ambulations. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Atkins." 

"  Good  morning,  sir," 

"  Here  is  the  girl  we  were  speaking  of  yesterday." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  other,  as  he  removed  a  lighted  cigar  from 
his  mouth,  "  she  is  likely  enough.  Take  off  yer  bonnet,  girl,  let 
me  look  at  yer  eyes.  They  are  good  ;  open  your  mouth — no 
decayed  teeth — all  sound ;  hold  up  your  'coat,  legs  are  good, 
some  marks  on  'em — now  the  back — pretty  much  and  badly 
scarred.     Well,  what's  the  damage  ?" 

"  Seven  hundred,  cash  down.  You  can  recommend  her  as  a 
first-rate  house  and  lady's  maid." 

"  What's  your  name,  girl?" 

"  Ann,"  I  replied. 

"Ann,  go  within,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the  door  through 
which  he  had  entered. 


318         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

I  turned  to  Mr.  Summerville,  saying, 

"  Good-bye,  Master  William      I  wish  you  well." 

"  Good-bye,  Ann,"  and  he  extended  his  hand  to  me  ;  "  I  hope 
Mr.  Atkins  will  get  you  a  good  home." 

Dropping  a  courtesy  and  a  tear,  I  passed  through  the  door 
designated  by  Mr.  Atkins,  and  stood  within  the  pen.  Here  I 
was  met  by  the  mulatto  who  had  answered  the  bell. 

"  Has  you  bin  bought,  Miss  V 

"Yes,  Mr.  Atkins  just  bought  me." 

"Why  did  your  Masser  sell  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Oh,  that's  what  the  most  of  'em  says.  It  'pears  so  quare 
ter  me  for  a  Masser  to  sell  good  sarvants  ;  but  I  guess  you'll 
soon  git  a  home ;  fur  you  is  'bout  the  likeliest  yaller  gal  I  ever 
seed.  Now,  thim  rale  black  'uns  hardly  ever  goes  off  here- 
We  has  to  send  'em  down  river,  or  let  'em  go  at  a  mighty  low 
price." 

"  How  often  do  you  have  sales  ?" 

"  Oh,  we  don't  have  'em  at  all.  That's  we  don't  have  public 
'uns.  We  sells  'em  privately  like  ;  but  we  buys  up  more  ;  and 
when  we  gits  a  large  number,  we  ships  'em  down  de  river." 

Wishing  to  cut  short  his  garrulity,  I  asked  him  to  show  me 
the  room  where  I  was  to  stay. 

"  In  here,  wid  de  rest  of  'em,"  he  said,  as  he  opened  the  door 
of  a  large  shed-room,  where  I  found  some  ten  or  twelve  negroes, 
women  and  men,  ranged  round  on  stools  and  chairs,  all  neatly 
dressed,  some  of  tliem  looking  very  happy,  others  with  down- 
cast, sorrow-stricken  countenances. 

One  bright,  gold-colored  man,  with  long,  silky  black  hair, 
and  raven  eyes,  full  of  subdued  power,  stood  leaning  his  elbow 
against  the  mantel.  His  melancholy  face  and  pensive  attitude 
struck  a  responsive  feeling,  and  I  turned  with  a  sisterly  senti- 
ment toward  him. 

I  have  always  been  of  a  taciturn  disposition,  shunning  com- 
pany ;  but  this  man  impressed  me  so  favorably,  he  seemed 
the  very  counterpart  of  myself,   that  I  forgot  my   usual   re- 


CHARLES'    WRONGS.  319 

serve,  and,  after  a  few  moments'  investigation  of  my  companions, 
the  faces  of  most  of  whom  were  unpleasant  to  me,  I  approached 
him  and  inquired — 

"Have  you  been  long  here  1" 

"  Only  a  few  days,"  he  answered,  as  he  lifted  his  mournful 
eyes  towards  mine,  and  I  could  see  from  their  misty  light,  that 
they  were  dimmed  by  tears. 

"  Are  you  sold  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,"  and  he  shuddered  terribly. 

I  did  not  venture  to  say  more;  but  stood  looking  at  him, 
when,  suddenly  he  turned  to  me,  saying, 

''  I  know  that  you  are  sold." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  with  that  strong  sort  of  courage  that  char- 
acterized me. 

"  You  take  it  calmly,"  he  said  ;   "  have  you  no  friends  ?" 

"You  do  not  talk  like  one  familiar  with  slavery,  to  speak  of 
a  slave's  having  friends." 

"  True,  true  ;  but  I  have — oh,  God  ! — a  wife  and  children, 
and  from  them  I  was  cruelly  torn,  and — and — and  I  saw  my 
poor  wife  knocked  flat  upon  the  floor,  and  because  I  had  the 
manhood  to  say  that  it  was  wrong,  they  tied  me  up  and  slashed 
me.     All  this  is  right,  because  my  skin  is  darker  than  theirs." 

What  a  fearful  groan  he  gave,  as  he  struck  his  breast 
violently. 

"  The  bitterness  of  all  this  I  too  have  tasted,  and  my  only 
wonder  is,  that  I  can  live  on.     My  heart  will  not  break." 

"  Mine  has  long  since  broken  ;  but  this  body  will  not  die. 
My  poor  children !  I  would  that  they  were  dead  with  their 
poor  slave-mother." 

"  Why  did  your  master  sell  you  ?" 

','  Because  he  wanted  to  buy  a  piano  for  his  daughter"  and 
his  lip  curled. 

To  gratify  the  taste  of  his  child,  that  white  man  had  separated 
a  father  from  his  children,  had  recklessly  sundered  the  holiest 
ties,  and  broken  the  most  solemn  and  loving  domestic  attach- 
ments ;  and   to,    such  heathenism  the  public  gave  its  hearty 


320  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

approval,  because  Lis  complexion  was  a  shade  or  so  darker  than 
Caucasians.  Oh,  Church  of  Christ !  where  is  thy  warning  voice  ? 
Is  not  this  a  matter,  upon  the  injustice  of  Avhich  thy  great 
voice  should  pronounce  a  malison  ? 

"  My  name  is  Charles,  what  is  yours  ?" 

"Ann." 

"  Well,  Ann,"  he  resumed,  " I  like  your  face;  you  are  the 
only  one  I've  seen  in  this  pen  that  I  was  willing  to  talk  with. 
You  have  just  come.     Tell  me  why  were  you  sold  ?" 

In  a  few  concisS  words  I  told  him  my  story.  He  seemed 
touched  with  sympathy. 

';  Poor  girl !"  he  murmured,  "like  all  the  rest  of  our  tribe, 
you  have  tasted  of  trouble." 

I  talked  with  him  all  the  morning,  and  we  both,  I  think, 
learned  what  a  relief  it  is  to  unclose  the  burdened  heart  to  a 
congenial,  listening  spirit. 

When  we  were  summoned  out  to  our  dinner,  I  found  a  very 
bountiful  and  pretty  good  meal  served  up.  It  is  the  policy  of 
the  trader  to  feed  the  slaves  well ;  for,  as  Mr.  Atkins  said,  "  the 
fat,  oily,  smooth,  cheerful  ones,  always  sold  the  best;"  and,  as 
this  business  is  purely  a  speculation,  they  do  everything,  even 
humane  things,  for  the  furtherance  of  their  mercenary  designs 
I  had  not  much  appetite,  neither  had  Charles,  as  was  remarked 
by  some  of  the  coarser  and  more  abject  of  our  companions  ;  and 
I  was  pained  to  observe  their  numerous  significant  winks  and 
blinks.  One  of  them,  the  old  gray  mouse  of  the  company,  an 
ancient  "  Uncle  Ned,"  who  had  taken  it  pretty  roughly  all  his 
days,  and  who  being  of  the  lower  order  of  Epicureans,  was,  per- 
haps, happier  at  the  pen  than  he  had  ever  been.  And  this  fel- 
low, looking  at  me  and  Charley,  said, 

"  They's  in  lub  ;"  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  went  round  the  circle.  I  no- 
ticed Charley's  brows  knitting  severely.  I  read  his  thoughts. 
1  knew  that  he  was  thinking  of  his  poor  wife  and  of  his  father- 
less children,  and  inwardly  swearing  unfaltering  devotion  to  them. 
Persuasively  I  said  to  him,  "  Don't  mind  them.  They  are 
scarcely  accountable.'' 


henry's  visit.  321 

"  I  know  -it,  I  know  it,"  lie  bitterly  replied,  "  but  I  little 
thought  I  should  ever  come  to  this.  Sold  to  a  negro-trader,  and 
locked  up  in  a  pen  -with  such  a  set !  I've  always  had  pride  ; 
tried  to  behave  myself  well,  and  to  make  money  for  my  master, 
and  now  to  be  sold  to  a  trader,  away  from  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren !"  He  shook  his  head  and  burst  into  tears.  I  felt  that  I 
had  no  words  to  console  him,  and  I  ventured  to  offer  none. 

I  managed,  by  aid  of  conversation  with  Charley,  to  pass  the 
day  tolerably.  There  may  be  those  of  my  readers  who  will 
ask  how  this  could  be.  But  let  them  remember  that  I  had 
never  been  the  pampered  pet,  the  child  of  indulgence ;  but  that 
I  was  born  to  the  ignominious  heritage  of  American  slavery. 
My  feelings  had  been  daily,  almost  hourly,  outraged.  This 
evil  had  not  fallen  on  me  as  the  first  misfortune,  but  as  one  of  a 
series  of  linked  troubles  "  long  drawn  out."  So  I  was  com- 
paratively fitted  for  endurance,  though  by  no  means  stoical;  for 
a  certain  constitutional  softness  of  temperament  rendered  me 
always  susceptible  of  anguish  to  a  very  high  degree.  At 
length  evening  drew  on — the  beautiful  twilight  that  was  written 
down  so  pleasantly  in  my  memory ;  the  time  that  had  always 
heralded  my  re-union  with  Henry.  Now,  instead  of  a  sweet 
starlight  or  moonlight  stroll,  I  must  betake  myself  to  a  narrow, 
"  cribbed,  cabined,  and  confined  "  apartment,  through  which  no 
truant  ray  or  beam  could  force  an  entrance  !  How  my  soul 
sickened  over  the  recollections  of  lovelier  hours  !  Whilst  I 
moodily  sat  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  hugging  to  my  soul  the 
thought  of  him  from  whom  I  was  now  forever  parted,  a  sound 
broke  on  my  ear,  a  sound — a  music-sound,  that  made  my  nerves 
thrill  and  my  blood  tingle  ;  'twas  the  sound  of  Henry's  voice. 
I  heard  him  ask — 

"  Where  is  she  ?  let  me  speak  to  her  but  a  single  word ;" 
and  how  that  mellow  voice  trembled  with  the  burden  of  painful 
emotion  !  Eagerly  I  sprang  forward  ;  reserve  and  maidenly 
coyness  all  forgotten.  My  only  wish  was  to  lay  my  weary  head 
upon  that  brave,  protecting  breast — weep,  ay,  and  die  there  ! 
"  Oh,  for  a  swift  death,"  I  frantically  cried,  as  I  felt  his  arms 
14* 


322  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

about  me,  while  my  head  was  pillowed  just  above  his  warm  and 
loving  heart.  I  felt  its  manly  pulsations  as  with  a  soft  lullaby 
they  seemed  hushing  me  to  the  deep,  eternal  sleep,  which  I  so 
ardently  craved  !  Better,  a  thousand  times,  for  death  to  part 
us,  than  the  white  man's  cruelty  !  So  we  both  thought.  I  read 
his  secret  wish  in  the  hopeless,  vacant,  but  still  so  agonized 
look,  that  he  bent  upon  me.  For  one  moment,  the  other  slaves 
huddled  together  in  blank  amazement.  This  was  to  them  "  a 
show,"  as  "  uncle  Ned  "  subsequently  styled  it. 

"  I've  brought  your  trunk,  Ann  ;  Mr.  Atkins  ordered  me  to 
leave  it  without ;  though  you'll  get  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Henry  ;  it  is  of  small  account  to  me  now :  yet 
there  are  in  it  some  few  of  your  gifts  that  I  shall  always 
value." 

"  Oh,  Ann,  don't,  pray  don't  talk  so  mournfully  !  Is  there 
no  hope  ?  Can't  you  be  sold  somewhere  in  the  city  ?  I  have 
got  about  fifty  dollars  now  in  money.  I'd  stop  buying  myself, 
and  buy  you  ;  make  my  instalments  in  fifties  or  hundreds,  as  I 
could  raise  it ;  but  I  spoke  to  a  lawyer  about  it,  and  he  read 
the  law  to  me,  showing  that  I,  as  a  slave,  couldn't  be  allowed 
to  hold  property;  and  there  is  no  white  man  in  whom  I  have 
sufficient  confidence,  or  who  would  be  willing  to  accommodate 
me  in  this  Avay.  Mine  is  a  deplorable  case  ;  but  I'm  going  to 
see  what  can  be  done.  I'll  look  about  among  the  citizens,  to 
see  if  some  of  them  will  not  buy  you ;  for  I  cannot  be  sepa- 
rated from  you.     It  will  kill  me  ;  it  will,  it  will !" 

''  Oh,  don't,  Henry,  don't !  for  myself  I  can  stand  much  ;  but 
when  I  think  of  you." 

He  caught  me  passionately  to  his  breast ;  and,  in  that  em- 
brace, he  seemed  to  say,  ''  They  shall  not  'part  us  /" 

He  seated  himself  on  a  low  stool  beside  me,  with  one  of  my 
hands  clasped  in  his,  and  thus,  with  his  tender  eyes  bent  upon 
me,  such  is  the  illusion  of  love,  I  forgot  the  terror  by  which  I 
was  surrounded,  and  yielded  myself  to  a  fascination  as  absorb- 
ing as  that  which  encircled  me  in  the  grove  on  that  memorable 
Sunday  evening 


DEFIANCE.  323 

"  Why,  Hemy,  is  this  you  ?"  and  a  strong  hand  was  laid  upon 
his  shoulder.     Looking  up,  I  beheld  Charley. 

"  And  is  this  you,  Charles  Allen  ?"  asked  the  other. 
•  ''  Yes,  this  is  me.     I  dare  say  you  scarcely  expected  to  find 
me  here,  where  I  never  thought  I  should  be." 

At  this  I  was  reminded  of  the  significant  ejaculation  that 
Ophelia  makes  in  her  madness,  "  Lord,  we  know  what  we  are, 
but  we  know  not  what  we  may  be  !"' 

"  I  am  sold,  Henry,"  continued  Charles,  ''  sold  away  from  my 
poor  wife  and  children;"  his  voice  faltered  and  the  big  tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"  I  see  from  your  manner  toward  Ann,  that  she  is  or  was  ex- 
pected to  be  your  wife." 

"  Yes,  she  was  pledged  to  be." 

"  Yes,  and  is,"  I  added  with  fervor.  At  this,  Henry  only 
pressed  my  hand  tightly. 

"  Yet,"  pursued  Charles,  "  she  is  taken  from  you." 

"  She  is,"  was  the  brief  and  bitter  reply. 
•  "  Now,  Henry  Graham,  are  we  men  ?  and  do  we  submit  to 
these  things  ?" 

"Alas  !"  and  the  words  came  through  Henry's  set  teeth,  "  we 
are  not  men ;  we  are  only  chattels,  property,  merchandise, 
slaves." 

"  But  is  it  right  for  us  to  be  so  ?  I  feel  the  high  and  lordly 
instincts  of  manhood  within  me.  Must  I  conquer  them  ?  Must 
I  stifle  the  eloquent  cry  of  Nature  in  my  breast  ?  Shall  I  see 
my  wife  and  children  left  behind  to  the  mercy  of  a  hard  master, 
and  willingly  desert  them  simply  because  another  man  says 
that,  in  exchange  for  this  sacrifice  of  happiness  and  hope,  his 
daughiti  shall  play  upon  Clnckering's  finest  piano  ?" 

"  Heavens  !  can  I  ever  forget  the  princely  air  with  which  he 
uttered  these  words  !  His  swarthy  cheek  glowed  with  a  beauti- 
ful crimson,  and  his  rich  eye  fairly  blazed  with  the  fire  of  a 
seven-times  heated  soul,  whilst  the  thin  lip  curled  and  the  fine 
nostril  dilated,  and  the  whole  form  towered  supremely  in  the 
majesty  of  erect  and  perfect  manhood  ! 


324  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OP    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

"  Hush,  Charley,  hush,''  I  urged,  "  this  is  no  place  for  the 
expression  of  such  sentiments,  just  and  noble  as  they  may  be." 

Again  Henry  pressed  my  hand. 

"  It  may  be  imprudent,  Ann,  but  I  am  reckless  now.  They 
have  done  the  worst  they  can  do.  I  defy  the  sharpest  dagger- 
point.  My  breast  is  open  to  a  thousand  spears.  They  can  do  no 
more.  But  how  can  you,  Henry,  thus  supinely  sit  by  and  see 
yourself  robbed  of  your  life's  treasure  ?  I  cannot  understand 
it.  Are  you  lacking  in  manliness,  in  courage  1  Are  you  a 
coward,  a  slave  indeed?" 

"  Do  not  listen  to  him  ;  leave  now,  Henry,  dear,  dear  Henry," 
I  implored,  as  I  observed  the  singular  expression  of  his  face. 
"  Go  now,  dearest,  without  saying  another  word ;  for  my  sake 
go.     You  will  not  refuse  me  V 

"  No,  I  will  not,  dear  Ann ;  but  there  is  a  fire  racing  in  my 
veins."  , 

"  Yes,  and  Charley  is  the  incendiary.     Go,  I  beg  you." 

With  a  long,  fond  kiss,  he  left  me,  and  it  was  well  he  did,  for 
in  a  moment  more  Mr.  Atkins  came  to  give  the  order  for  retir- 
ing. 

I  found  a  very  comfortable  mattress  and  covering,  on  the  floor 
of  a  good,  neatly-carpeted  room,  which  was  occupied  by  five 
other  women.  One  of  them,  a  gay  girl  of  about  fifteen,  a  fall- 
blooded  African,  made  her  pallet  close  to  mine.  I  had  observed 
her  during  the  day  as  a  garrulous,  racketty  sort  of  baggage, 
that  seemed  contented  with  her  situation.  She  was  extremely 
neat  in  her  dress ;  and  her  ebony  skin  had  a  rich,  oily,  shiny 
look,  resembling  the  perfect  polish  of  Nebraska  blacking  on  an 
exquisite's  boot.  Partly  from  their  own  superiority,  but  chiefly 
from  contrast  with  her  complexion,  shone  white  as  mountain 
snow,  a  regular  row  of  ivory  teeth.  Her  large  flabby  ears 
were  adorned  by  huge  wagon-wheel  rings  of  pinch-beck,  and 
a  cumbersome  strand  of  imitation  coral  beads  adorned  her  inky 
throat,  whilst  her  dress  was  of  the  gaudiest  colors,  plaided  in 
large  bars.  Thus  decked  out,  she  made  quite  a  figure  in  the 
assemblage. 


LUCY'S    QUESTIONING.  325 

"  Is  yer  name  Ann  V  she  unceremoniously  asked. 

"  Yes,"  was  my  laconic  reply. 

"  Mine  is  Lucy  ;  but  they  calls  me  Luce  fur  short." 

No  answer  being  made,  she  garrulously  went  on  : 

"  Was  that  yer  husband  what  corned  to  see  you  this  evenin'  ?" 

"No." 

"  Your  brother  ?" 

"No." 

*'  Your  cousin  ?" 

"  Neither." 

"  Well,  he's  too  young-lookin'  fur  yer  father.  Mought  he  be 
yer  uncle  ?" 

"No." 

"Laws,  then  he  mus'  be  yer  sweetheart !"  and  she  chuckled 
with  mirth. 

I  made  no  answer. 

"  Why  don't  you  talk,  Ann  ?" 

"  I  don't  feel  like  it." 

"  You  don't  ?  well,  that's  quare." 

Still  I  made  no  comment.      Nothing  daunted,  she  went  on  : 

"  Is  yer  gwine  down  the  river  with  the  next  lot  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;"  but  this  time  I  accompanied  my  reply  with 
a  sigh. 

"What  you  grunt  fur  ?" 

I  could  not,  though  so  much  distressed,  resist  a  laugh  at  this 
singular  interrogatory. 

"  Don't  yer  want  to  go  South  ?  I  does.  They  say  it's  right 
nice  down  dar.  Plenty  of  oranges.  When  Masser  fust  sold  me, 
I  was  mightily  'stressed ;  den  Missis,  she  told  me  dat  dar  was  a 
sight  of  oranges  down  dar,  and  dat  we  didn't  work  any  on  Sun- 
days, and  we  was  'lowed  to  marry ;  so  I  got  mightily  in  de 
notion  of  gwine.  You  see  Masser  Jones  never  'lowed  his  black 
folks  to  marry.  I  wanted  to  marry  four,  five  men,  and  he 
wouldn't  let  me.  Den  we  had  to  work  all  day  Sundays;  never 
had  any  time  to  make  anyting  for  ourselves  ;  and  I  does  love 
oranges!     I  never  had  more  an'  a  quarter  of  one  in  my  life." 


326         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

Tims  she  wandered  on  until  she  fell  off  to  sleep  ;  but  the 
leaden-winged  cherub  visited  me  not  that  night.  My  eye-lids 
refused  to  close  over  the  parched  and  tear-stained  orbs.  I 
dully  moved  from  side  to  side,  changed  and  altered  my  position 
fifty  times,  yet  there  was  no  repose  for  me. 

"  Not  poppy  nor  mandragora 
Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Could  then  medicine  me  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  I  owed  yesterday." 

I  saw  the  dull  gray  streak  of  the  morning  beam,  as  coldly  it 
played  through  the  gratings  of  my  room.  There,  scattered  in 
dismal  confusion  over  the  floor,  lay  the  poor  human  beings,  for 
whose  lives,  health  and  happiness,  save  as  conducing  to  the  pe- 
cuniary advantage  of  the  trafficker,  no  thought  or  care  was 
taken.  I  rose  hastily  and  adjusted  my  dress,  for  I  had  not  re- 
moved it  during  the  night.  The  noise  of  my  rising  aroused 
several  of  the  others,  and  simultaneously  they  sprang  to  their 
feet,  apprehensive  that  they  had  slept  past  the  prescribed  hour 
for  rising.  Finding  that  their  alarm  was  groundless,  and  that 
they  were  by  the  clock  an  hour  too  early,  they  grumbled  a 
good  deal  at  what  they  thought  my  unnecessary  awaking.  I 
would  have  given  much  to  win  to  my  heart  the  easy  indifference 
as  to  fate,  which  many  of  them  wore  like  a  loose  glove ;  but 
there  I  was  vulnerable  at  eve.ry  pore,  and  wounded  at  each. 
What  a  curse  to  a  slave's  life  is  a  sensitive  nature  ! 

That  day  closed  as  had  the  preceding,  save  that  at  evening 
Henry  did  not  come  as  before.  I  wandered  out  in  the  yard, 
which  was  surrounded  by  a  high  brick-wall,  covered  at  the  top 
with  sharp  iron  spikes,  to  prevent  the  escape  of  slaves.  Through 
this  barricaded  ground  I  was  allowed  to  take  a  little  promenade. 
There  was  not  a  shrub  or  green  blade  of  grass  to  enliven  me  ; 
but  my  eyes  lingered  not  upon  the  earth.  They  were  turned 
up  to  the  full  moon,  shining  so  round  and  goldenly  from  the  pur 
pie  heaven,  and,  scattered  sparsely  through  the  fields  of  azure, 
were  a  few  stars,  looking  brighter  and  larger  from  their  scarcity. 


LIFE    AT   THE    PEN.  327 

"  Will  my  death-hour  ever  come  ?"  I  asked  myself  despair- 
ingly. "  Have  I  not  tasted  of  the  worst  of  life  1  Is  not  the 
poisoned  cup  drained  to  its  last  dregs  ?" 

I  fancied  that   I  heard  a  voice  answer,  as  from  the  clouds, 

"'No,  there  are  a  few  bitterer  drops  that  must  yet  be  drunk. 
Press  the  goblet  still  closer  to  your  lips." 

I  shuddered  coldly  as  the  last  tones  of  the  imagined  voice 
died  away  upon  the  soft  night  air. 

"Is  that,"  I  cried,  "a  prophet  warning?  Comes  it  to  me 
now  that  I  may  gird  my  soul  for  the  approaching  warfare  ?  Let 
me,  then,  put  on  my  helmet  and  buckler,  and,  like  a  life-tired 
soldier,  rush  headlong  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  praying 
that  the  first  bullet  may  prove  a  friend  and  drink  my  blood ! " 

Yet  I  shrank,  like  the  weakest  and  most  fearful  of  my  race, 
when  the  distant  cotton-fields  rose  upon  my  mental  view  ! 
There,  beneath  the  heat  of  a  "  hot  and  copper  sky,"  I  saw  my- 
self wearily  tugging  at  my  assigned  task  ;  yet  my  fear  was  not 
for  the  physical  trouble  that  awaited  me.  Had  Henry  been 
going,  "  down  the  river"  would  have  had  no  terror  for  me  ;  but 
I  was  to  part  from  joy,  from  love,  from  life  itself!  Oh,  why, 
why  have  we — poor  bondsmen  and  bondswomen — these  fine 
and  delicate  sensibilities  ?  Why  do  we  love  ?  Why  are  we  not 
all  coarse  and  hard,  mere  human  beasts  of  burden,  with  no 
higher  mental  or  moral  conception,  than  obedience  to  the  will 
or  caprice  of  our  owners  1 

Night  closed  over  this  second  weary  day.  And  thus  passed 
on  many  days  and  nights.  I  did  some  plain  sewing  by  way  of 
employment,  and  at  the  command  of  a  mulatto  woman,  who  was 
the  kept  mistress  of  Atkins,  and  therefore  placed  in  authority 
over  us.  Many  of  the  women  were  hired  out  to  residents  of 
the  city  on  trial,  and  if  they  were  found  to  be  agreeable  and 
good  servants,  perhaps  they  were  purchased.  Before  sending 
them  out,  Mr.  Atkins  always  called  them  to  him,  and,  shaking 
his  cane  over  their  heads,  said, 

"Now,  you  d d  hussy,  or  rascal   (as  they  chanced  to  be 

male  or  female)    if  you  behave   yourselves  well,  you'll  find  a 


328  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

good  home  ;  but  you  dare  to  get  sick  or  misbehave,  and  be  sent 
back  to  me,  and  I'll  thrash  you  in  an  inch  of  your  cursed  life." 

With  this  demoniacal  threat  ringing  in  their  ears,  it  is  not 
likely  that  the  poor  wretches  started  off  with  any  intention  of 
bad  conduct. 

We  constantly  received  accessions  to  our  number,  but  never 
acquisitions,  for  the  poor,  ill-fed,  ill-kept  wretches  that  came  in 
there,  "  sold  (as  Atkins  said)  for  a  mere  song,"  were  desolate 
and  revolting  to  see. 

Charley  found  one  or  two  old  books,  that  he  seemed  to  read 
and  re-read ;  indifferent  novels,  perhaps,  that  served,  at  least,  to 
keep  down  the  ravening  tortures  of  thought.  I  lent  him  my 
Testament,  and  he  read  a  great  deal  in  it.     He  said  that  he  had 

one,  but  had  left  it  with  his  wife.     He  was   a  member  of  the 

t 

Methodist  Church  ;  had  gone  on  Sunday  afternoons  to  a  school 
that  had  been  established  for  the  benefit  of  colored  people,  and 
thus,  unknown  to  his  master,  had  acquired  the  first  principles 
of  a  good  education.  He  could  read  and  write,  and  was  in  pos- 
session of  the  rudiments  of  arithmetic.  He  told  me  that  his 
wife  had  not  had  the  opportunities  he  had,  and  therefore  she 
was  more  deficient,  but  he  added,  "  she  had  a  great  thirst  for 
knowledge,  such  as  I  have  never  seen  excelled,  and  rarely 
equalled.  I  have  known  her,  after  the  close  of  her  daily  labors, 
devote  the  better  portion  of  the  night  to  study.  I  gave  her  all 
the  instruction  I  could,  and  she  was  beginning  to  read  with  con- 
siderable accuracy ;  but  all  that  is  over,  past  and  gone  now." 
And  again  he  ground  his  teeth  fiercely,  and  a  wild,  lurid  light 
gathered  in  his  eye. 

This  man  almost  made  me  oblivious  of  my  own  grief,  in 
sympathy  for  his.  I  did  all  I  could  by  "  moral  suasion,"  as 
the  politicians  say,  to  soften  his  resentment.  I  bade  him  turn 
his  thoughts  toward  that  religion  which  he  had  espoused. 

"  I  have  no  religion  for  this,"  he  would  bitterly  say. 

And  in  truth,  I  fear  me  much  if  the  heroism  of  saints  would 
hold  out  on  such  occasions.  There,  fastened  to  that  impassioned 
husband's  heart,  playing  with  its  dearest  chords,  was  the  fang- 


A    NEW    COMER.  329 

like  hand  of  the  white  man  !  Oh,  slow  tortures  !  m  comparison 
to  which  that  of  Prometheus  was  very  pleasure.  There  is  no 
Tartarus  like  that  of  wounded,  agonized  domestic  love  !  Far 
away  from  him,  in  a  lonely  cabin,  he  beheld  his  stricken  wife 
and  all  his  "  pretty  chickens  "  pining  and  unprotected. 

Slowly,  after  a  few  days,  he  relapsed  into  that  stony  sort 
of  despair  that  denies  itself  the  gratification  of  speech.  The 
change  was  very  painfully  visible  to  me,  and  I  tried,  by  every 
artifice,  to  arouse  him ;  but  I  had  no  power  to  wake  him. 

"  Give  sorrow  words  ;  the  grief  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'erfraught  heart,  and  bids  it  break." 

And  soon  learning  this,  I  left  him,  a  remorseless  prey  to  that 
"  rooted  sorrow"  of  the  brain. 


One  day,  as  we  all  sat  in  the  shed-room,  engaged  at  our 
various  occupations,  we  were  roused  by  a  noise  of  violent 
weeping,  and  something  like  a  rude  scuffle  just  without  the 
door,  when  suddenly  Atkins  entered,  dragging  after  him,  with 
his  hand  close  about  his  throat,  a  poor  negro  man,  aged  and 
worn,  with  a  head  white  as  cotton. 

"Oh,  please,  Masser,  jist  let  me  go  back,  an'  tell  de  ole 
'ooman  farewell,  an'  I  won't  ax  for  any  more." 

"No,  you  old  rascal,  you  wants  to  run  away.  If  you  say 
another  word  about  the  old  voman,  I'll  beat  the  life  out  of 
you." 

•'  Oh  lor',  oh  lor',  de  poor  ole  'ooman  an'  de  boys  ;  oh  my  ole 
heart  will  bust!"  and,  sobbing  like  a  child,  the  old  man  sank 
down  upon  the  floor,  in  the  most  abandoned  grief. 

"  Here,  boys,  some  of  you  git  the  fiddle  and  play,  an'  I  war- 
rant that  old  fool  will  be  dancin'  in  a  minnit,"  said  Atkin6  in  his 
unfeeling  way. 

Of  course  this  speech  met  with  the  most  signal  applause 
from  "  de  boys"  addressed. 

I  watched  the  expression  of  Charles'  face.     It  was  frightful. 


330  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

He  sat  m  one  corner,  as  usual,  with  an  open  book  in  his  hand. 
From  it  he  raised  his  eyes,  and,  whilst  the  scene  between  At- 
kins and  the  old  negro  was  going  on,  they  flashed  with  an  ex- 
pression that  I  could  not  fathom.  His  brows  knit,  and  his  lip 
curled,  yet  he  spoke  no  word. 

When  Atkins  withdrew,  the  old  man  lay  there,  still  weeping 
and  sobbing  piteously.     I  went  up  to  him,  kindly  saying, 

''What  is  the  matter,  old  uncle'?" 

The  sound  of  a  kind  voice  aroused  him,  and  looking  tip 
through  his  streaming  tears,  he  said, 

"  Ob,  chile,  I's  got  a  poor  ole  'ooman  dat  lives  'bout  half 
mile  in  de  country.  Masser  fotch  me  in  town  to-day,  an'  say 
he  was  agwine  to  hire  me  fur  a  few  weeks.  Wal,  I  beliebed 
him,  bekase  Masser  has  bin  hard  run  far  money,  an'  I  was  will- 
in'  to  hope  him  'long,  so  I  consented  to  be  hired  in  town  fur 
little  while,  and  den  go  out  an'  see  de  ole  'ooman  an'  de  boys 
Saturday  nights.  Wal,  de  fust  thing  I  knowed  when  I  got  to 
town  I  was  sold  to  a  trader.  Masser  wouldn't  tell  me  hisself  ; 
but,  when  I  got  here,  de  gemman  what  I  thought  I  was  hired 
to,  tole  me  dat  Masser  Atkins  had  bought  me ;  an'  I  wanted  to 
go  back  an'  ask  Masser,  but  he  laughed  an'  say  'twant  no  use, 
Masser  done  gone  out  home.  Oh,  lor'  !  'peared  like  dere  was 
nobody  to  trus'  to  den.  I  begged  to  go  an'  say  good-bye  ;  but 
dey  'fused  me  dat,  an'  Masser  Atkins  'gan  to  swear,  an'  he 
struck  me  'cross  de  head.  Oh,  I  didn't  tink  Masser  wud  do 
me  so  in  my  ole  age  !" 

I  ask  you,  reader,  if  for  a  sorrow  like  this  there  was  any 
word  of  comfort]  I  thought  not,  and  did  not  dare  try  to  offer 
any. 

"  Will  scenes  like  these  ever  cease  ?"  I  fretfully  asked,  as 
I  turned  to  Charles. 

"  Never  !"  was  the  bitter  answer. 

This  old  man  talked  constantlyof  his  little  woolly-headed 
boys.  When  telling  of  their  sportive  gambols,  he  would  smile, 
even  whilst  the  tears  were  flowing  down  his  cheeks. 

He  often  had  a  crowd  of  slaves  around  him  listening;  to  his 


LOUISE'S    VISIT,  331 

talk  of  "  wife  and  children,"  but  I  seldom  made  one  of  the 
number,  for  it  saddened  me  too  much.  I  knew  that  he  was 
telling  of  joys  that  could  never  come  to  him  again. 

On  one  of  these  occasions,  when  uncle  Peter,  as  he  was  called, 
was  deep  in  the  merits  of  his  conversation,  I  was  sitting  in 
the  corner  of  the  room  sewing,  when  Luce  came  running 
breathlessly  up  to  me,  with  a  bunch  of  beautiful  flowers  in  her 
hand. 

"  Oh,  Ann,"  she  exclaimed,  "  dat  likely -lookin'  yallow  man, 
dat  cum  to  see  you,  an'  fotch  yer  trunk  de  fust  night  yer  corned 
here,  was  passin'  by,  an'  I  was  stanin'  at  de  gate ;  an'  he  axed 
me  to  ban'  dis  to  you." 

And  she  gave  me  the  bouquet,  which  I  took,  breathing  a 
thousand  blessings  upon  the  head  of  my  devoted  Henry. 

I  had  often  wondered  why  Louise  had  never  been  to  see 
me.  She  knew  very  well  where  I  was,  and  access  to  me  was 
easy.  But  I  was  not  long  kept  in  suspense,  for,  on  that  very 
night  she  came,  bringing  with  her  a  few  sweetmeats,  which  I 
distributed  among  those  of  my  companions  who  felt  more  in- 
clined to  eat  them  than  I  did. 

"  I  have  wondered,  Louise,  why  you  did  not  come  sooner." 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,  Ann,  I've  been  busy  trying  to  find  you  a 
home.  I  couldn't  bear  to  come  without  bringing  you  good 
news.  Henry  and  I  have  worked  hard.  All  of  our  leisure 
moments  have  been  devoted  to  it.  We  have  scoured  this  city 
over,  but  with  no  success  ;  and,  hearing  yesterday  that  Mr. 
Atkins  would  start  down  the  river  to-morrow,  with  all  of  you, 
I  could  defer  coining  no  longer.  Poor  Henry  is  too  much  dis- 
tressed to  come  !  He  says  he'll  not  sleep  this  night,  but  will 
ransack  the  city  till  he  finds  somebody  able  and  willing  to  res- 
cue you." 

"  How  does  he  look?"  I  asked. 

*'  Six  years  older  than  when  you  saw  him  last.  He  takes 
this  very  hard;  has  lost  his  appetite,  and  can't  sleep  at 
night." 

I  said  nothing ;  but  my  heart  was  full,  full  to  overflowing.    I 


332  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

longed  to  be  alone,  to  fall  with  my  face  on  the  earth  and  weep. 
The  presence  of  Louise  restrained  me,  for  I  always  shrank  from 
exposing  my  feelings. 

"Are  we  going  to-morrow  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Atkins  told  me  so  this  evening.  Did  you  not  know 
of  it  ?" 

"No,  indeed;  am  I  among  the  lot  ?'' 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  she  replied, 

"  Yes,  he  told  me  that  you  were,  and,  on  account  of  your 
beauty,  he  expected  you  woiild  bring  a  good  price  in  the  South- 
ern market.  Oh  heavens,  Ann,  this  is  too  dreadful  to  repeat ; 
yet  you  will  have  to  know  of  it." 

"  Oh  yes,  yes  ;"  and  I  could  no  longer  restrain  myself;  I  fell, 
weeping,  in  her  arms. 

She  could  not  remain  long  with  me,  for  Mr.  Atkins  closed  up 
the  establishment  at  half-past  nine.  Bidding  me  an  affectionate 
farewell,  and  assuring  me  that  she  would,  with  Henry,  do  all 
that  could  be  done  for  my  relief,  she  left  me. 

A  most  wretched,  phantom-peopled  night  was  that !  Ten  thou- 
sand horrors  haunted  me  !  Of  course  I  slept  none  ;  but  imagina- 
tion seemed  turned  to  a  fiend,  and  tortured  me  in  divers  ways. 


CHAPTEE    XXXIY. 

SCENE     IN     THE    PEN STARTING    "DOWN    THE     RIVER" UNCLE 

PETER'S    TRIAL MY    RESCUE. 

On  the  next  day,  after  breakfast,  Mr.  Atkins  came  in,  saying, 

"  Well,  niggers,  git  yourselves  ready.  You  must  all  start 
down  the  river  to-day,  at  ten  o'clock.  A  good  boat  is  going  out. 
Huddle  up  your  clothes  as  quick  as  possible — no  fuss,  now." 

When  he  left,  there  was  lamentation  among  some ;  silent 
mourning  with  others ;  joy  for  a  few. 

Shall  I  ever  forget  the  despairing  look  of  Charley  ?  How 
passionately  he  compressed  his  lips !  I  went  up  to  him,  and, 
laying  my  hand  on  his  arm,  said, 

"Let  us  be  strong  to  meet  the  trouble  that  is  sent  us  !" 

He  looked  at  me,  but  made  no  reply.  I  thought  there  was 
the  wildness  of  insanity  in  his  glance,  and  turned  away. 

It  was  now  eight  o'clock,  and  I  had  not  heard  from  Henry  or 
Louise.  Alas  !  my  heart  misgave  me.  I  had  been  buoyed  up 
for  some  time  by  the  flatteries  and  delusions  of  Hope  !  but  now 
I  felt  that  I  had  nothing  to  sustain  me ;  the  last  plank  had 
sunk ! 

I  did  not  pretend  to  ''  get  myself  ready,"  as  Mr.  Atkins  had 
directed  ;  the  faSt  is,  I  was  ready.  The  few  articles  of  wearing 
apparel  that  I  called  mine  were  all  in  my  trunk,  with  some  lit- 
tle presents  that  Henry  had  made  me,  such  as  a  brooch,  ear- 
rings, &c.  These  were  safely  locked,  and  the  key  hung  round 
my  neck.  But  the  others  were  busy  ''  getting  ready."  I  was 
standing  near  the  door,  anxiously  hoping  to  see  either  Henry  or 
Louise,  when  an  old  negro  woman,  thinly  clad,  without  any 
bonnet  on  her  head,  and  with  a  basket  in  her  hand,  came  up  to 
me,  saying, 

[333] 


334  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Please  mam,  is  my  ole  man  in  here  ?  De  massa  out  here 
say  I  may  speak  'long  wid  him,  and  say  farwell ;"  and  she 
wiped  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  an  old  torn  check  apron. 

I  was  much  touched,  and  asked  her  the  name  of  her  old  man. 

"  Pete,  mam." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  within,"  and  I  stepped  aside  to  let  her  pass 
through  the  door. 

She  went  hobbling  along,  making  her  passage  through  the 
crowd,  and  I  followed  after.     In  a  few  moments  Pete  saw  her. 

"Oh  dear!  oh  dear!"  he  cried  out,  "Judy  is  come;"  and 
running  up  to  her,  he  embraced  her  most  affectionately. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  begged  Masser  to  let  me  come  and  see 
you.  It  was  long  time  before  he  told  me  dat  you  was  sole  to 
a  trader  and  gwine  down  de  ribber.  Oh,  Lord  !  it  'pears  like  I 
ken  never  git  usin  to  it !  Dars  no  way  for  me  ever  to  hear  from 
you.     You  kan't  write,  neither  ken  I.     Oh,  what  shill  we  do  ?" 

"I  doesn't  know,  Judy,  we's  in  de  hands  ob  de  Lord.  We 
mus'  trus'  to  Him.  Maybe  He'll  save  us.  Keep  on  prayin',  Judy." 

The  old  man's  voice  grew  very  feeble,  as  he  asked, 

"An  de  chillen,  de  boys,  how  is  dey  V 

"  Oh,  dey  is  well.  Sammy  wanted  to  come  long  'wid  me ;  but 
it  was  too  fur  for  him  to  walk.  Joe  gib  me  dis,  and  say,  take 
it  to  daddy  from  me." 

She  looked  in  her  basket,  and  drew  out  a  little  painted  cedar 
whistle.  The  tears  rolled  down  the  old  man's  cheeks  as  he 
took  it,  and,  looking  at  it,  he  shook  his  head  mournfully, 

"  Poor  boy,  dis  is  what  I  give  him  fur  a  Christmas  gift,  an'  he 
sot  a  great  store  to  it.  Only  played  wid  it  of  Sundays  and  holi- 
days. No,  take  it  back  to  him,  an'  tell  him  to  play  wid  it,  and 
never  forget  his  poor  ole  daddy  dat's  sole  'way  down  de  ribber!" 

Here  he  fairly  broke  down,  and,  bursting  into  tears,  wept 
aloud. 

"  Oh,  God  hab  bin  marciful  to  me  in  lettin'  me  see  you,  Judy, 
once  agin  !  an'  I  am  an  ongrateful  sinner  not  to  bar  up  better." 

Judy  was  weeping  violently. 

"  Oh,  if  dey  would  but  buy  me  !  I  wants  to  go  long  wid  you." 


SEPARATION    OF    HUSBAND    AND    WIFE.  335 

"  No,  no,  Judy,  you  must  stay  long  wid  de  chillen,  an'  take 
kere  ob  'em.  Besides,  you  is  not  strong  enough  to  do  de  work 
dey  would  want  you  to  do.  No,  I  had  better  go  by  myself,"  and 
he  wiped  his  eyes  with  his  old  coat  sleeve. 

"  I  wish,"  he  added,  ''  dat  I  had  some  little  present  to  send  de 
boys,"  and,  fumbling  away  in  his  pocket,  he  at  length  drew  out 
two  shining  brass  buttons  that  he  had  picked  up  in  the  yard. 

"  Give  dis  to  'em  ;  say  it  was  all  thar  ole  daddy  had  to  send 
'em  ;  but,  maybe,  some  time  I'll  have  some  money ;  and  if  I 
meet  any  friends  down  de  ribber,  I'll  send  it  to  'em,  and  git  a 
letter  writ  back  to  let  you  and  'em  know  wkar  I  is  sold." 
Judy  opened  her  basket,  and  handed  him  a  small  bundle. 
"  Here,  Pete,  is  a  couple  of  shirts  and  a  par  of  trowsers  I 
fetched  you,  and  here's  a  good  par  of  woollen  socks  to  keep  you 
Warm  in  de  winter  ;  and  dis  is  one  of  Masser's  ole  woollen 
undershirts  dat  Missis  sent  you.  You  know  how  you  allers  suf- 
fers in  cold  wedder  wid  de  rheumatiz." 

"  Tell  Missis  thankee,"  and  his  voice  was  choking  in  his 
throat. 

There  was  many  a  tearful  eye  among  the  company,  looking 
at  this  little  scene.  But,  suddenly  it  was  broken  up  by  the 
appearance  of  Mr.  Atkins. 

"  Well,  ole  woman,"  he  began,  addressing  Uncle  Pete's  wife, 
"  it  is  time  you  was  agoin'.   You  has  staid  long  enough.    Thar's 
no  use  in  makin'  a  fuss.     Pete  belongs  to  me,  an'   I   am   agoin' 
to  sell  him  to  the  highest  bidder  I  can  find  down  the  river." 
"  Oh,  Masser,  won't  you  please  buy  me  ?"  asked  Judy. 
"  No,  you  old  fool." 

"  Oh,  hush  Judy,  pray  hush,"  put  in  Pete;  "humor  her  a 
little  Masser  Atkins,  she  will  go  in  a  minnit.  Now  do  go,  honey," 
lie  added,  addressing  Judy,  who  stood  a  moment,  irresolutely, 
regarding  her  old  husband  ;  then  screaming  out,  "  Oh  no,  no, 
T  can't  leave  you! "  fell  down  at  his  feet  half  insensible. 

"  Oh,  Lord  Jesus,  hab  marcy  !"  groaned  Pete,  as  he  bent  over 
his  partner's  body. 


336  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Take  her  out,  instantly,"  exclaimed  Atkins,  as  one  of  the 
men  dragged  the  body  out. 

"  Please  be  kereful,  don't  hurt  her,"  implored  Pete. 

''  Behave  yourself,  and  don't  go  near  her,"  said  Atkins  to 
him,  "  or  I'll  have  both  you  an'  her  flogged.  I  am  not  goin' 
to  have  these  fusses  in  my  pen." 

All  this  time  Charley's  face  was  frightful.  As  Atkins  passed 
along  he  looked  toward  Charley,  and  I  thought  he  quailed  be- 
fore him.  That  regal  face  of  the  mulatto  man  was  well  calcu- 
lated to  awe  such  a'  sinister  and  small  soul  as  Atkins. 

"Yes,  yes,  Charles,  that  proud  spirit  of  yourn  will  git  pretty 
well  broken  down  in  the  cotton  fields,"  he  murmured,  just  loud 
enough  to  be  heard.  Charles  made  no  answer,  though  I  ob- 
served that  his  cheek  fairly  blazed. 


"When  we  were  all  bonneted,  trunks  corded  down,  and 
bundles  tied  up,  waiting,  in  the  shed-room,  for  the  order  to  get 
in  the  omnibus,  Uncle  Pete  suddenly  spied  the  basket  which 
Judy,  in  her  insensibility,  had  left.  Picking  it  up,  I  saw  the 
tears  glitter  in  his  eyes  when  the  two  bright  buttons  rolled  out 
on  the  floor. 

"  These  puttys,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  was  fur  de  boys. 
Poor  fellows  !  Now  dey  won't  have  any  keepsake  from  dar 
daddy  ;  and  den  here's  de  little  cedar  whistle  ;  oh,  I  wish  I 
could  send  it  out  to  'em."  Looking  round  the  room  he  saw 
Kitty,  the  mulatto  woman,  of  whom  I  have  before  spoken  as  the 
mistress  of  Atkins. 

"  Oh,  please,  Kitty,  will  you  have  dis  basket,  dis  whistle,  and 
dese  putty  buttons,  sent  out  to  Mr.  John  Jones',  to  my  ole 
'ooman  Judy  V 

"Yes,"  answered  the  woman,  ''  I  will." 
"Thankee  mam,  and  you'll  very  much  oblige  me." 
"  Come  'long  with  you  all.     The   omnibus  is  ready,"  cried 
out  Atkins,  and  we  all  took  up  the  line  of  march  for  the  door, 


A    SAFE    DELIVERANCE.  337 

each  pausing  to   say  good-bye  to  Kitty,  and  yet  none  caring 
much  for  her,  as  she  had  not  been  agreeable  to  us. 

"Going  down  the  river,  really,"  I  said  to  myself. 

"Wait  a  minnit,"  said  Atkins,  and  calling  to  a  sort  of  fore- 
man, who  did  his  roughest  work,  he  bade  him  handcuff  us. 

How  fiercely-proud  looked  the  face  of  Charles,  as  they  fast- 
ened the  manacles  on  his  wrists. 

I  made  no  complaint,  nor  offered  resistance.  My  heart  was 
maddened.  I  almost  blamed  Louise,  and  chided  Henry  for  not 
forcing  my  deliverance.  I  could  have  broken  the  handcuffs,  so 
strongly  was  I  possessed  by  an  unnatural  power. 

"  Grit  in  the  'bus,"  said  the  foreman,  as  he  riveted  on  the 
last  handcuff. 

Just  as  I  had  taken  my  seat  in  the  omnibus,  Henry  came 
frantically  rushing  up.  The  great  beads  of  perspiration  stood 
upon  his  brow ;  and  his  thick,  hard  breathing,  was  frightful. 
Sinking  down  upon  the  ground,  all  he  could  say  was, 

"Ann!  Ann!" 

I  rose  and  stood  erect  in  the  omnibus,  looking  at  him,  but 
dared  not  move  one  step  toward  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  that  nigger  ?"  inquired  Atkins, 
pointing  toward  Henry.  Then  addressing  the  driver,  he  bade 
him  drive  down  to  the  wharf. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !"  exclaimed  Henry  ;  "  in  Heaven's  name  stop, 
Mr.  Atkins,  here's  a  gentleman  coming  to  buy  Ann.  Wait  a 
moment." 

Just  then  a  tall,  grave-looking  man,  apparently  past  forty, 
walked  up. 

"  Who  the  d 1  is  that  ?"  gruffly  asked  Mr.  Atkins. 

<;  It  is  Mr.  Moodwell,"  Henry  replied.  "  He  has  come  to 
buy  Ann." 

"  Who  said  that  I  wanted  to  sell  her  ?" 

"  You  would  let  her  go  for  a  fair  price,  wouldn't  you  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  would  part  with  her  for  a  first-rate  one." 

Just  then,  as  hope  began  to  relume  my  soul,  Mr.  Moodwell 
approached  Atkins,  saying, 
15 


338  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  I  wish  to  buy  a  yellow  girl  of  you." 

"  Which  one  ?" 

"  A  girl  by  the  name  of  Ann.     Where  is  she  ?" 

"  Don't  you  know  her  by  sight  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,  for  I  have  never  seen  her." 

"  You  don't  want  to  buy  without  first  seeing  her  ?" 

"  I  take  her  upon  strong  recommendation." 

With  a  dogged,  and  I  fancied  disappointed  air,  Atkins  bade 
me  stand  forth.  Right  willingly  I  obeyed ;  and  appearing  be- 
fore Mr.  Moodwell,  with  a  smiling,  hopeful  face,  I  am  not  sur- 
prised that  he  was  pleased  with  me,  and  readily  paid  down  the 
price  of  a  thousand  dollars  that  was  demanded  by  Atkins. 
When  I  saw  the  writings  drawn  up,  and  became  aware  that  I 
had  passed  out  of  the  trader's  possession,  and  could  remain  near 
Henry,  I  lifted  my  eyes  to  Heaven,  breathing  out  an  ardent 
act  of  adoration  and  gratitude. 

Quickly  Henry  stood  beside  me,  and  clasping  my  yielding 
hand  within  his  own,  whispered, 

"  You  are  safe,  dear  Ann." 

I  had  no  words  wherewith  to  express  my  thankfulness ;  but 
the  happy  tears  that  glistened  in  my  eyes,  and  the  warm  pres- 
sure of  the  hand  that  I  gave,  assured  him  of  the  sincerity  of  my 
gratitude. 

My  trunk  was  very  soon  taken  down  from  the  top  of  the 
omnibus  and  shouldered  by  Henry. 

Looking  up  at  my  companions,  I  beheld  the  savagely-stern 
face  of  Charles ;  and  thinking  of  his  troubles,  I  blamed  myself 
for  having  given  up  to  selfish  joy,  when  such  agony  was  within 
my  sight.  I  rushed  up  to  the  side  of  the  omnibus  and  extended 
my  hand  to  him. 

"  Cod  has  taken  care  of  you,"  he  said,  with  a  groan,  "  but  I 
am  forgotten  !" 

"  Don't  despair  of  His  mercy,  Charley."  More  I  could  not 
say  ;  for  the  order  was  given  them  to  start,  and  the  heavy 
vehicle  rolled  away. 


HOURS   OF   SICKNESS.  339 

As  I  turned  toward  Henry  he  remarked  the  shadow  upon 
my  brow,  and  tenderly  inquired  the  cause. 

"  I  am  distressed  for  Charley." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  I  would  that  I  had  the  power  to  relieve  him." 

"  Come  on,  come  on,"  said  Mr.  Moodwell,  and  we  followed 
him  to  the  G House,  where  I  found  Louise,  anxiously  wait- 
ing for  me. 

"You  are  safe,  thank  Heaven  !"  she  exclaimed,  and  joyful 
tears  were  rolling  down  her  smooth  cheeks. 

The  reaction  of  feeling  was  too  powerful  for  me,  and  my 
health  sank  under  it.  I  was  very  ill  for  several  weeks,  with 
fever.  Louise  and  Henry  nursed  me  faithfully.  Mr.  Mood- 
well  had  purchased  me  for  a  maiden  sister  of  his,  who  was  then 

travelling  in  the  Southern  States,  and  I  was  left  at  the  G 

House  until  I  should  get  well,  at  which  time,  if  she  should  not 
have  returned,  I  was  to  be  hired  out  until  she  came.  I  recollect 
well  when  I  first  opened  my  eyes,  after  an  illness  of  weeks. 
I  was  lying  on  a  nice  bed  in  Louise's  room.  As  it  was  a  cool 
evening  in  the  early  October,  there  was  a  small  comfort-diffusing 
fire  burning  in  the  grate  ;  and  on  a  little  stand,  beside  my  bed, 
was  a  very  pretty  and  fragrant  bouquet.  Seated  near  me,  with 
my  hand  in  his,  was  the  one  being  on  earth  whom  I  best  loved. 
He  was  singing  in  a  low,  musical  tone,  the  touching  Ethiopian 
melody  of  "  Old  Folks  at  Home."  Slowly  my  eyes  opened 
upon  the  pleasant  scene  !  Looking  into  his  deep,  witching  eyes, 
I  murmured  low,  whilst  my  hand  returned  the  pressure  of  his, 

"  Is  it  you,  dear  Henry  ?" 

"  It  is  I,  my  love ;  I  have  just  got  through  with  my  work, 
and  I  came  to  see  you.  Finding  you  asleep,  I  sat  down  beside 
you  to  hum  a  favorite  air ;  but  I  fear,  that  instead  of  calming, 
I  have  broken  your  slumber,  sweet." 

"  No,  dearest,  I  am  glad  to  be  aroused.  I  feel  so  much  better 
than  I  have  felt  for  weeks.  My  head  is  free  from  fever,  and 
except  for  the  absence  of  strength,  am  as  well  as  I  ever  was." 

"  Oh,  it  makes  me  really  happy  to  hear  you  say  so.  I  have 
been  so  uneasy  about  you.     The  doctor  was  afraid  of  conges- 


340  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   FEMALE    SLAVE. 

tlon  of  the  brain.  You  cannot  know  how  I  suffered  in  mind 
about  you ;  but  now  your  flesh  feels  cool  and  pleasant,  and 
your  strength  will,  I  trust,  soon  return." 

Just  then  Louise  entered,  bearing  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  nice 
brown  slice  of  toast,  and  a  delicate  piece  of  chicken,  on  a  neat 
little  salver.  At  sight  of  this  dainty  repast,  my  long-forgotten 
appetite  returned,  with  a  most  healthful  vigor.  But  my  kind 
nurse,  who  was  glad  to  find  me  so  well,  determined  to  keep  me 
so,  and  would  not  allow  me  a  hearty  indulgence  of  appetite. 

In  a  few  days  I  was  able  to  sit  up  in  an  easy  chair,  and,  at 
every  opportunity,  Louise  would  amuse  me  with  some  piece  of 
pleasant  gossip,  in  relation  to  the  boarders,  &c.  And  Henry, 
my  good,  kind,  noble  Henry,  spent  all  his  spare  change  in  buy- 
ing oranges  and  pine-apples  for  me,  and  in  sending  rare  bouquets, 
luxuries  in  which  I  took  especial  delight.  Then,  during  the 
long,  cheerful  autumnal  evenings,  when  a  fire  sparkled  in  the 
grate,  he  would,  after  his  work  was  done,  bring  his  banjo  and 
play  for  me ;  whilst  his  rich,  gushing  voice  warbled  some  old 
familiar  song.  Its  touching  plaintiveness  often  brought  the 
tears  to  my  eyes. 

Thus  passed  a  few  weeks  pleasantly  enough  for  me  ;  but  like 
all  the  other  rose-winged  hours,  they  soon  had  a  close. 

My  strength  had  been  increasing  rapidly,  and  Mr.  Moodwell, 
the  brother  and  agent  of  my  mistress,  concluded  that  I  was 
strong  enough  to  be  hired  out.  Accordingly,  he  apprized  me 
of  his  intention,  saying, 

"  Ann,  sister  Nancy  has  written  me  word  to  hire  you  out 
until  spring,  when  she  will  return  and  take  you  home.  I  have 
selected  a  place  for  you,  in  the  capacity  of  house-servant.  You 
must  behave  yourself  well." 

I  assured  him  that  I  would  do  my  best ;  then  asked  the  name 
of  the  family  to  whom  I  was  hired. 

"  To  Josiah  Smith,  on  Chestnut  street,  I  have  hired  you.  He 
has  two  daughters  and  a  young  niece  living  with  him,  and  wishes 
you  to  wait  on  them." 

After  apprizing  Henry  and  Louise  of  my  new  home,  pro  tern., 


THE    TEMPORARY    HOME.  341 

I  requested  the  former  to  bring  my  trunk  out  that  night,  which 
he  readily  promised.  Bidding  them  a  kind  and  cheerful  adieu, 
I  followed  Mr.  Moodwell  out  to  Chestnut  street. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  retired  and  beautiful  streets  in  the 
city  of  L ,  and  Mr.  Josiah  Smith's  residence  the  very  hand- 
somest among  a  number  of  exceedingly  elegant  mansions. 

Opening  a  bronze  gate,  we  passed  up  a  broad  tesselated  stone 
walk  that  led  to  the  house,  which  was  built  of  pure  white  stone, 
and  three  stories  in  height,  with  an  observatory  on  the  top,  and 
the  front  ornamented  with  a  richly-wrought  iron  verandah. 
Reposing  in  front  upon  the  sward,  were  two  couchant  tigers  of 
dark  gray  stone. 

Passing  through  the  verandah,  we  stopped  at  the  mahogany 
door  until  Mr.  Moodwell  pulled  the  silver  bell-knob,  which  was 
speedily  answered  by  a  neatly-dressed  man-servant,  who  bade 
Mr.  Moodwell  walk  in  the  parlor,  and  requested  me  to  wait 
without  the  door  until  he  could  find  leisure  to  attend  to  me. 

I  obeyed  this  direction,  and  amused  myself  examining  what 
remained  of  a  very  handsome  flower-garden,  until  he  returned, 
when  conducting  me  around,  by  a  private  entrance,  he  ushered 
me  into  the  kitchen. 


CHAPTBE    XXXV. 

THE    NEW    HOME — A    PLEASANT    FAMILY     GROUP — QUIET     LOVE- 
MEETINGS. 

I  became  domesticated  very  soon  in  Mr.  Josiah  Smith's 
family.  I  learned  what  my  work  was,  and  did  it  very  faith- 
fully, and  I  believe  to  their  satisfaction. 

The  family  proper  consisted  of  Mr.  Smith,  his  wife,  two 
daughters,  and  a  niece.  Mr.  Smith  was  a  merchant,  of  con- 
siderable wealth  and  social  influence,  and  the  young  ladies  were 
belles  par-excellence.  Mrs.  Smith  was  the  domestic  of  the  con- 
cern, who  carried  on  the  establishment,  a  little,  busy,  fussy  sort 
of  woman,  that  went  sailing  it  round  the  house  with  a  huge 
bunch  of  keys  dangling  at  her  side,  an  incessant  scold,  with  a 
voice  sharp  and  clear  like  a  steamboat  bell ;  a  managing,  thrifty 
sort  of  person,  a  perfect  terror  to  negroes  ;  up  of  a  morning 
betimes,  and  in  the  kitchen,  fussing  with  the  cook  about  break- 
fast. 

I  had  very  little  to  do  with  Mrs.  Letitia.  My  business  was 
almost  exclusively  with  the  young  ladies.  I  cleaned  and  ar- 
ranged their  rooms,  set  the  parlors  right,  swept  and  dusted 
them,  and  then  attended  to  the  dining-room.  This  part  of  my 
work  threw  me  under  Mrs.  Letitia's  dynasty ;  but  as  I  gene- 
rally did  my  task  well,  she  had  not  much  objection  to  make, 
though  her  natural  fault-finding  disposition  sharpened  her  optics 
a  good  deal,  and  she  generally  discovered  something  about 
which  to  complain. 

Miss  Adele  Smith  was  the  elder  of  the  two  daughters,  a  tall, 
pale  girl,  with  dark  hair,  carefully  banded  over  a  smooth, 
polished  brow,  large  black  eyes  and  a  pleasing  manner. 

[342] 


KINDNESS    OF    THE    YOUNG    LADIES.  343 

The  second,  Miss  Nellie,  was  a  round,  plump  girl  of  blonde 
complexion,  fair  hair  and  light  eyes,  with  a  rich  peach-flush  on 
her  cheek,  and  a  round,  luscious,  cherry-red  mouth,  that  was 
always  curling  and  curvetting  with  smiles. 

The  cousin,  Lulu  Carey,  was  a  real  romantic  character,  with 
a  light,  fragile  form,  milk-white  skin,  the  faintest  touch  of  car- 
mine playing  over  the  cheek,  mellow  gray  eyes,  earnest  and 
loving,  and  a  profusion  of  chestnut-brown  hair  fell  in  the  richest 
ringlets  to  her  waist.  Her  features  and  caste  of  face  were  per- 
fect. She  was  habited  in  close  mourning,  for  her  mother  had 
been  dead  but  one  year,  and  the  half-perceptible  shadow  of  grief 
that  hung  over  her  face,  form  and  manner,  rendered  her  glori- 
ous beauty  even  more  attractive. 

It  was  a  real  pleasure  to  me  to  serve  these  young  ladies,  for 
though  they  were  the  elite,  the  cream  of  the  aristocracy,  they 
were  without  those  offensive  "airs"  that  render  the  fashionable 
society  of  the  West  so  reprehensible.  Though  their  parlors 
were  filled  every  evening  with  the  gayest  company,  and  they 
were  kept  up  late,  they  always  came  to  their  rooms  with  pleas- 
ant smiles  and  gracious  words,  and  often  chided  me  for  remain- 
ing out  of  bed. 

"  Don't  wait  for  us,  Ann/'  they  would  say.  "  It  isn't  right 
to  keep  you  from  your  rest  on  our  account." 

I  slept  on  a  pallet  in  their  chamber,  and  took  great  delight  in 
remaining  up  until  they  came,  and  then  assisted  them  in  disrobing. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  known  white  ladies  (and 
young)  to  be  amiable,  and  seemingly  philanthropic,  and  of 
course  a  very  powerful  interest  was  excited  for  them.  They 
had  been  educated  in  Boston,  and  had  imbibed  some  of  the 
liberal  and  generous  principles  that  are,  I  think,  indigenous  to 
high  Northern  latitudes.  Indeed,  I  believe  Miss  Lulu  strongly 
inclined  toward  their  social  and  reformatory  doctrines,  though 
she  did  not  dare  give  them  any  very  open  expression,  for  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Josiah  Smith  were  strong  pro-slavery,  conservative 
people,  and  would  not  have  countenanced  any  dissent  from  their 
opinions. 


344  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Mrs.  Smith  used  to  say,  "  Niggers  ought  to  be  exterminated." 
And  Miss  Lulu,  in  her  quiet  way,  would  reply, 
"  Yes,  as  slaves  they  should  he  exterminated.'' 
And  then   how  pretty  and  naively  she  arched  her  pencilled 
brows.     Tins  was  always  understood  by  the  sisters,  who  must 
have  shared  her  liberal  views. 

Mr.  Smith  was  so  much  absorbed  in  mercantile  matters,  that 
he  seldom  came  home,  except  at  meals  or  late  at  night,  when 
the  household  was  wrapped  in  sleep ;  and,  even  on  Sundays, 
when  all  the  world  took  rest,  he  was  locked  up  in  his  counting- 
room.  This  seemed  singular  to  me,  for  a  man  of  Mr.  Smith's 
reputed  and  apparent  wealth  might  have  found  time,  at  least  on 
Sunday,  for  quiet. 

The  young  ladies  were  very  prompt  and  regular  in  their  at 
tendance  at  church,  but  I  used  often  to  hear  Miss  Lulu  exclaim, 
after  returning, 

"  Why  don't  they  give  us  something  new  ?  These  old  rags 
of  theology  weary,  not  to  say  annoy  me.  If  Christianity  is 
marching  so  rapidly  on,  why  have  we  still,  rising  up  in  our 
very  midst,  institutions  the  vilest  and  most  revolting !  Why 
are  we  cursed  with  slavery  ?  Why  have  we  houses  of  prosti- 
tution, where  beauty  is  sold  for  a  price  ?  Why  have  we  pest 
and  alms-houses  ?  Who  is  the  poor  man's  friend  ?  Who  is  there 
with  enough  of  Christ's  spirit  to  speak  kindly  to  the  Magdalene, 
and  bid  her  '  go  and  sin  no  more '  ?  Alas,  for  Christianity  to- 
day!" 

"  But  we  must  accept  life  as  it  is,  and  patiently  wait  the 
coming  of  the  millennium,  when  things  will  be  as  they  ought," 
was  Miss  Adele's  reply. 

"  Oh,  now  coz,  don't  you  and  sis  go  to  speculating  upon  life's 
troubles,  but  come  and  tell  me  what  I  shall  wear  to  the  party 
to-morrow  night,"  broke  from  the  gay  lips  of  the  lively  Nellie. 
In  this  strain  I've  many  times  heard  them  talk,  but  it  always 
wound  up  with  a  smile  at  the  suggestion  of  the  volatile  Miss 
Nellie. 

When  I  had  been  there  but  two  days,  I  began  to  suspect  Mrs. 


MORTIFICATION.  345 

Smith's  disposition,  for  she  several  times  declared  her  opinion 
that  niggers  had  no  business  with  company,  and  that  her's 
shouldn't  have  any.     This  was  a  damper  to  my  hopes,  for  my 

chief  motive  for  wishing  to  be  sold  in  L was  the  pleasure  I 

expected  to  derive  from  Henry's  society.  Every  night,  as  early 
as  eight,  the  servants  were  ordered  to  their  respective  quarters, 
and,  as  I  slept  in  the  house,  a  stolen  interview  with  him  would 
have  been  impossible,  as  Mrs.  Smith  was  too  alert  for  me  to 
make  an  unobserved  exit.  On  the  second  evening  of  my  sojourn 
there,  Henry  called  to  see  me  about  half-past  seven  o'clock ; 
and,  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  yield  myself  up  to  pleasure,  Mrs. 
Smith  came  to  the  kitchen,  and,  seeing  him  there,  asked, 

"  Whose  negro  is  this  ?" 

"Henry  Graham  is  my  name,  Missis,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  what  business  have  you  here  ?" 

Henry  was  embarrassed  ;  he  hung  his  head,  and,  after  a  mo- 
ment, faltered  out, 

"  I  came  to  see  Ann,  Missis." 

"  Where  do  you  belong  ?" 

"  I   belong  to   Mr.    Graham,   but   am   hired   to   the   G 

House." 

"  Well,  then,  go  right  there ;  and,  if  ever  I  catch  you  in  my 
kitchen  again,  I'll  send  your  master  word,  and  have  you  well 
flogged.  I  don't  allow  negro  men  to  come  to  see  my  servants. 
I  want  them  to  have  no  false  notions  put  into  their  heads.  A 
nigger  has  no  business  visiting  ;  let  him  stay  at  home  and  do  his 
master's  work.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  missed  something 
out  of  the  kitchen,  and  if  I  do,  I  shall  know  that  you  stole  it, 
and  you  shall  be  whipped  for  it  ;  so  shall  Ann,  for  daring  to 
bring  strange  niggers  into  my  kitchen.  Now,  clear  yourself, 
man." 

With  an  humbled,  mortified  air,  Henry  took  his  leave.  A 
thousand  scorpions  were  writhing  in  my  breast.  That  he,  my 
love,  so  honest,  noble,  honorable,  and  gentlemanly  in  all  his 
feelings,  should  be  so  accused  almost  drove  me  to  madness.  I 
could  not  bear  to  have  his  pride  so  bowed  and  his  dearly-cher- 
15* 


346  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

ished  principles  outraged.  From  that  day  I  entertained  no  kind 
feeling  for  Mrs.  Smith. 

On  another  occasion,  a  Saturday  afternoon,  when  Louise  came 
to  sit  a  few  moments  with  me,  she  heard  of  it,  and,  rushing 
down  stairs,  ordered  her  to  leave  on  the  instant,  adding  that  her 
great  abomination  was  free  niggers,  and  she  wouldn't  have 
them  lurking  round  her  kitchen,  corrupting  her  servants,  and, 
perhaps,  purloining  everything  within  their  reach. 

Louise  was  naturally  of  a  quick  and  passionate  disposition ; 
and,  to  be  thus  wantonly  and  harshly  treated,  was  more  than 
she  could  bear.  So  she  furiously  broke  forth,  and  such  a  scene 
as  occurred  between  them  was  disgraceful  to  humanity  !  Miss 
Adele  hearing  the  noise  instantly  came  out,  and  in  a  positive 
tone  ordered  Louise  to  leave  ;  which  order  was  obeyed.  After 
hearing  from  her  mother  a  correct  statement  of  the  case,  Miss 
Adele  burst  into  tears  and  went  to  her  room  I  afterward  heard 
her  kindly  remonstrating  with  her  mother  upon  the  injustice  of 
such  a  course  of  conduct  toward  her  servants.  But  Mrs.  Smith 
was  confirmed  in  her  notions.  They  had  been  instilled  into  her 
early  in  life ;  had  grown  with  her  growth  and  strengthened 
with  her  years.  So  it  was  not  possible  for  her  young  and  phi- 
lanthropic daughter  to  remove  them.  Once,  when  Miss  Adele 
was  quite  sick,  and  after  I  had  been  nursing  her  indefatigably 
for  some  time,  she  said  to  me, 

"  Ann,  you  have  told  me  the  story  of  your  love.  I  have 
been  thinking  of  Henry,  and  pitying  his  condition,  and  trying 
to  devise  some  way  for  you  to  see  him." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Adele,  you  are  very  kind." 

"  The  plan  I  have  resolved  upon  is  this  :  I  will  pretend  to 
send  you  out  of  evenings  on  errands  for  me  ;  you  can  have  an 
understanding  with  Henry,  and  meet  at  some  certain  point ; 
then  take  a  walk  or  go  to  a  friend's  ;  but  always  be  careful  to 
get  home  before  ten  o'clock.'' 

This  was  kindness  indeed,  and  I  felt  the  grateful  tears  gather- 
ing in  my  eyes  !  I  could  not  speak,  but  knelt  down  beside  the 
bed,  and  reverently  kissed  the  hem  of  her  robe.     Goodness  such 


THE    LOVE-MEETING.  347 

as  hers,  charity  and  love  to  all,  elicited  almost  rny  verj 
worship  ! 

I  remember  the  first  evening  that  I  carried  this  scheme  into 
effect.  She  was  sitting  in  a  large  arm-chair,  carefully  wrapped 
up  in  the  folds  of  an  elegant  velvet  role-de-chamlre.  Her 
mother,  sister,  and  cousin  were  beside  her,  all  engaged  in  a 
cheerful  conversation,  when  she  called  me  to  her,  and  pretended 
to  give  me  some  errand  to  attend  to  out  in  the  city,  telling  me 
pointedly  that  it  would  require  my  attention  until  near  ten 
o'clock.     How  like  a  lovely  earth-angel  appeared  she  then  ! 

I  had  previously  apprized  Henry  of  the  arrangement,  and 
named  a  point  of  meeting.  Upon  reaching  it,  I  found  him 
already  waiting  for  me.  We  took  a  long  stroll  through  the 
lamp-lit  streets,  talking  of  the  blessed  hopes  that  struggled  in 
our  bosoms  ;  of  the  faint  divinings  of  the  future ;  told  over  the 
story  of  past  sufferings,  and  renewed  olden  vows  of  devotion. 

He,  with  the  most  lover-like  fondness,  had  brought  me  some 
little  gift ;  for  this  I  kindly  reproved  him,  saying  that  all  his 
money  should  be  appropriated  to  himself,  that,  by  observing  a 
rigid  economy,  we  but  hastened  on  the  glorious  day  of  release 
from  bondage.  Before  ten  I  was  at  home,  and  waiting  beside 
Miss  Adele.  How  kindly  she  asked  me  if  I  had  enjoyed  my- 
self; and  with  what  pride  I  told  her  of  the  joy  that  her  kind- 
ness had  afforded  me !  Surely  the  sweet  smile  that  played  so 
luminously  over  her  fair  face  was  a  reflex  of  the  peace  that 
irradiated  her  soul  !  How  beautifully  she  illustrated,  in  her 
single  life,  the  holy  ministrations  of  true  womanhood  !  Did  she 
not,  with  kind  words  and  generous  acts,  "  strive  to  bind  up  the 
bruised,  broken  heart."  At  the  very  mention  of  her  name,  aye, 
at  the  thought  of  her  even,  I  never  fail  to  invoke  a  blessing 
upon  her  life  ! 

Thus,  for  weeks  and  mouths,  through  her  ingenuity,  I  saw 
Henry  and  Louise  frequently.  Otherwise,  how  dull  and  dreary 
would  have  seemed  to  me  that  long,  cold  winter,  with  its 
heaped  snow-banks,  its  dull,  gray  sky,  its  faint,  chill  sun,  and 
leafless  trees;  but  the  sunbeam  of  her  kindness  made  the  sea- 
eon  bright,  warm  and  grateful ! 


CHAPTBE    XXXVI. 

THE    NEW    ASSOCIATES — DEPRAVED    VIEWS ELSY'S  MISTAKE 

DEPARTURE   OP    THE    YOUNG    LADIES — LONELINESS. 

In  Mr.  Smith's  family  of  servants  was  Emily,  the  cook,  a 
sagacious  woman,  hut  totally  without  education,  knowledge,  or 
the  peculiar  ambition  that  leads  to  its  acquisition.  She  was  a 
bold,  raw,  unthinking  spirit  ;  and,  from  the  fact  that  she  had 
been  kept  closely  confined  to  the  house,  never  allowed  any 
social  pleasure,  she  resolved  to  be  revenged,  and  unfortunately 
in  her  desire  for  "  spite  "  (as  she  termed  it),  had  sacrificed  her 
character,  and  was  the  mother  of  two  children,  with  unac- 
knowledged fathers.  Possessed  of  a  violent  temper,  she  would, 
at  periods,  rave  like  a  mad-woman  ;  and  only  the  severest  lash- 
ing could  bring  her  into  subjection.  She  was  my  particular 
terror.  Her  two  children,  half-bloods,  were  little,  sick,  weasly 
things  that  excited  the  compassion  of  all  beholders,  and  though 
two  years  of  age  (twins),  were,  from  some  physical  derange- 
ment, unable  to  walk. 

There  was  also  a  man  servant,  Duke,  who  attended  to  odd 
ends  of  housework,  and  served  in  the  capacity  of  decorated 
carriage-driver,  and  a  girl,  Elsy,  a  raw,  green,  country  concern, 
good-natured  and  foolish,  with  a  face  as  black  as  tar.  They  had 
hired  her  from  a  man  in  the  country,  and  she  being  quite  de- 
lighted with  town  and  the  off-cast  finery  of  the  ladies,  was  as 
happy  as  she  could  be — yet  the  mistakes  she  constantly  made 
Avere  truly  amusing.  She  had  formed  quite  an  attachment  for 
Duke,  which  he  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree  return  ;  yet, 
with  none  of  the  bashfulness  of  her  sex,  she  confessed  to  the 
feeling,  and  declared  that  "  Duke  was  very  mean  not  to  love 


elsy's  views  of  study.  349 

her  a  little."  This  never  failed  to  excite  the  derision  of  the 
more  sprightly  Emily. 

"  Well,  you  is  a  fool,"  she  would  exclaim,  with  an  odd  shake 
of  the  head. 

"  I  loves  him,  and  don't  kere  who  knows  it." 

"  Does  he  love  you  ?"  asked  Emily. 

"  Well,  he  doesn't." 

"  Then  I'd  hate  him,"  replied  Emily,  as,  with  a  great  force, 
she  brought  her  rolling-pin  down  on  the  table. 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,"  answered  the  loving  Elsy. 

''  You  ain't  worth  shucks." 

"  Wish  I  was  worth  Duke." 

"  Hush,  fool." 

"  You  needn't  git  mad,  kase  I  don't  think  as  you  does." 

"  I  is  mad  bekase  you  is  a  fool." 

"  Who  made  me  one  ?" 

''  You  was  born  it,  I  guess." 

"  Then  I  aren't  to  blame  fur  it.     Them  that  made  me  is." 

Conversations  like  this  were  of  frequent  occurrence,  and 
once,  when  I  ventured  to  ask  Elsy  if  she  wouldn't  like  to  learn 
to  read,  she  laughed  heartily,  saying : 

"  Does  you  think  I  wants  to  run  off1?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Den  why  did  you  ax  me  if  I  wanted  to  larn  to  read  ?" 

"  So  you  might  have  a  higher  source  of  enjoyment  than  you 
now  have." 

"  Oh,  yes,  so  as  to  try  to  git  my  freedom  !  You  is  jist  a  spy 
fur  de  white  folks,  and  wants  to  know  if  I'll  run  away.  Go  off, 
now,  and  mind  yer  own  business,  kase  I  has  hearn  my  ole  Mas- 
ser,  in  de  country,  say  dat  whenever  niggers  'gan  to  read  books 
dey  was  ob  no  'count,  and  allers  had  freedom  in  dar  heads." 

Finding  her  thus  obstinate,  I  gave  up  all  attempts  to  per- 
suade her,  and  left  her  to  that  mental  obscuration  in  which  I 
found  her.  Emily  sometimes  threatened  to  apply  herself,  with 
vigor,  to  the  gaining  of  knowledge,  and  thus  defeat  and  "spite" 
her  owners  ;  but  knowledge  so  obtained,  I  think,  would  be  of 


4 
350  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

little  avail,  for,  like  religion,  it  must  be  sought  after  from  higher 
motives — sought  for  itself  only. 

I  could  find  but  little  companionship  with  those  around  me, 
and  lived  more  totally  within  myself  than  I  had  ever  done. 
Many  times  have  I  gone  to  my  room,  and  in  silence  wept  over 
the  isolation  in  which  my  days  were  spent ;  but  three  nights  out 
of  the  seven  were  marked  with  white  stones,  for  on  these  I  held 
blissful  re-unions  with  Henry.  Our  appointed  spot  for  meeting 
was  near  an  old  pump,  painted  green,  which  was  known  as  the 
"  green  pump,"  a  very  favorite  one,  as  the  water,  pure  lime- 
stone, was  supposed  to  be  better,  cooler,  and  stronger  than  that 
of  others.  Much  has  been  written,  by  our  popular  authors,  on 
the  virtues  and  legends  of  old  town  pumps,  but,  to  me,  this  one 
had  a  beauty,  a  charm,  a  glory  which  no  other  inanimate  object 
in  wide  creation  possessed  !  And  of  a  moonlight  night,  when  I 
descried,  at  a  distance,  its  friendly  handle,  outstretched  like  an 
arm  of  welcome,  I  have  rushed  up  and  grasped  it  with  a  right 
hearty  good  feeling !  Long  time  afterwards,  when  it  had 
ceased  to  be  a  love-beacon  to  me,  I  never  passed  it  without  tak- 
ing a  drink  from  its  old,  rusty  ladle,  and  the  water,  like  the 
friendly  draught  contained  in  the  magic  cup  of  eastern  story, 
transported  me  over  the  waste  of  time  to  poetry  and  love  ! 
Even  here  I  pause  to  wipe  away  the  fond,  sad  tears,  which  the 
recollection  of  that  old  "  green  pump"  calls  up  to  my  mind,  and 
I  should  love  to  go  back  and  stand  beside  it,  and  drink,  aye 
deeply,  of  its  fresh,  cool  water  !  There  are  now  many  stately 
mansions  in  that  growing  city,  that  sits  like  a  fairy  queen  upon 
the  shore  of  the  charmed  Ohio  ;•>  but  away  from  all  its  lofty 
structures  and  edifices  of  wealth,  away  from  her  public  haunts, 
her  galleries  and  halls,  would  I  turn,  to  pay  homage  to  the  old 
"  green  pump"  ! 

Some  quiet  evenings,  too,  had  I  in  Louise's  room,  listening 
to  Henry  sing,  while  he  played  upon  his  banjo.  His  voice  was 
fine,  full,  and  round,  and  rang  out  with  the  clearness  of  a  bell. 
Though  possessed  of  but  slight  cultivation,  I  considered  it  the 
finest  one  I  ever  heard. 


THE    MISTAKE.  351 

But  again  my  pleasures  were  brought  to  a  speedy  close.  As 
the  winter  began  to  grow  more  cold,  and  the  city  more  dull,  the 
young  ladies  began  to  talk  of  a  jaunt  to  New  Orleans.  Their 
first  determination  was  to  carry  me  with  them ;  but,  after  calcu- 
lating the  "  cost,"  they  concluded  it  was  better  to  go  without  a 
servant,  and  render  all  necessary  toilette  services  to  each  other. 
They  had  no  false  pride — thanks  to  their  Northern  education  for 
that  ! 

Before  their  departure  they  gave  quite  a  large  dinner-party, 
served  up  in  the  most  fantastic  manner,  consisting  of  six  differ- 
ent courses.  I  officiated  as  waiter,  assisted  by  Duke.  Owing 
to  the  scarcity  of  servants  in  the  family,  Elsy  was  forced  to 
attend  the  door,  and  render  what  assistance  she  could  at  the 
table. 

Whilst  they  were  engaged  on  the  fourth  course,  a  violent 
ring  was  heard  at  the  door-bell,  which  Elsy  was  bound  to  obey. 

In  a  few  moments  she  returned,  saying  to  one  of  the  guests  : 

"  Miss  Allfield,  a  lady  wishes  to  speak  with  you." 

"  Witli  me  ?"  interrogated  the  lady. 

*'  Yes,  marm." 

"  Who  can  she  be  1"  said  Miss  Allfield,  in  surprise. 

"  Bid  the  lady  be  seated  in  the  parlor,  and  say  that  Miss  All- 
field  is  at  dinner,"  replied  Mrs.  Smith. 

"  If  the  company  will  excuse  me,  I  will  attend  to  this  unusual 
visitor,"  said  Miss  Allfield,  as  she  rose  to  leave. 

"  It  is  a  colored  lady,  and  she  is  waitin'  fur  you  at  the  door," 
put  in  Elsy. 

The  blank  amazement  that  sat  upon  the  face  of  each  guest, 
may  be  better  imagined  than  described  !  Some  of  them  were 
ready  to  go  into  convulsions  of  laughter.  A  moment  of  dead 
silence  reigned  around,  when  Miss  Nellie  set  the  example  of  a 
hearty  laugh,  in  which  all  joined,  except  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith, 
whose  faces  were  black  as  a  tempest-cloud. 

But  there  stood  the  offending  Elsy,  all  unconscious  of  her 
guilt.  When  she  first  came  to  town,  she  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  announcing  company  to  the  ladies  as  "  a  man  wants  to  see 


352  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

you,"  or  "  a  woman  is  in  the  parlor,"  and  had,  every  time,  been 
severely  reprimanded,  and  told  that  she  should  say  "a  lady  or 
gentleman  is  in  the  parlor."  And  the  poor,  green  creature,  in 
her  great  regard  for  "  ears  polite,"  did  not  know  how  to  make 
the  distinction  between  the  races  ;  but  most  certainly  was  she 
taught  it  by  the  severe  whipping  that  was  administered  to  her 
afterwards  by  Mr.  Smith.  No  intercession  or  entreaty  from  the 
ladies  could  be  of  any  avail.  Upon  Elsy's  bare  back  must  the 
atonement  be  made !  After  this  public  whipping,  she  was  held 
somewhat  in  disgrace  by  the  other  servants.  Duke  gave  her  a 
very  decided  cut,  and  Emily,  who  had  never  liked  her,  was 
now  lavish  in  her  abuse  and  ill-treatment.  She  even  struck  the 
poor,  offenceless  creature  many  blows ;  and  from  this  there  was 
no  redemption,  for  she  was  in  sad  disrepute  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Smith  ;  and,  after  the  young  ladies'  departure,  she  had  no  friend 
at  all,  for  I  was  too  powerless  to  be  of  use  to  her. 


The  remainder  of  the  winter  was  dull  indeed.  My  inter- 
views with  Henry  had  been  discontinued ;  and  I  never  saw 
Louise.  I  had  no  time  for  reading.  It  was  work,  work,  delve 
and  drudge  until  my  health  sank  under  it.  Mrs.  Smith  never 
allowed  us  any  time  on  Sundays,  and  the  idea  of  a  negro's 
going  to  church  was  outrageous. 

"No,"  she  replied,  when  I  asked  permission  to  attend  church, 
"  stay  at  home  and  do  your  work.  What  business  have  negroes 
going  to  church  ?  They  don't  understand  anything  about  the 
sermon." 

Very  true,  I  thought,  for  the  most  of  them ;  but  who  is  to 
blame  for  their  ignorance  1  If  opportunities  for  improvement 
are  not  allowed  them,  assuredly  the}^  should  not  suffer  for  it. 

How  dead  and  lifeless  lay  upon  my  spirit  that  dull,  cold  win- 
ter !  The  snow-storm  was  without;  and  ice  was  within.  Con- 
stant fault-finding  and  ten  thousand  different  forms  of  domestic 
persecution  well-nigh  crushed  the  life  out  of  me.  Then  there 
was  not  one  break   of  beauty  in  my  over-cast  sky  !     No  faint 


THE    COMING    OF    MAY.  353 

or  struggling  ray  of  light  to  illume  the  ice-bound   circle  that 
surrounded  me ! 

But  the  return  of  spring  began  to  inspire  me  with  hope  ;  for 
then  I  expected  the  arrival  of  my  unknown  mistress.  Henry 
and  Louise  both  knew  her,  and  they  represented  her  as  pos- 
sessed of  very  amiable  and  philanthropic  views.  How  eagerly 
I  watched  for  the  coming  of  the  May  blossoms,  for  then  she,  too, 
would  come,  and  I  be  released  from  torture  !  How  dull  and 
drear  seemed  the  howling  month  of  March,  and  even  the  fitful, 
changeful  April.  Alternate  smiles  and  tears  were  wearying  to 
me,  and  sure  I  am,  no  school-girl  elected  queen  of  the  virgin 
month,  ever  welcomed  its  advent  with  such  delight  as  I ! 

With  its  first  day  came  the  young  ladies.  Right  glad  was  I 
to  see  them.  They  returned  blooming  and  bright  as  flowers, 
with  the  same  gentle  manners  and  kindly  dispositions  that  they 
had  carried  away. 

Miss  Nellie  had  many  funny  anecdotes  to  tell  of  what  she  had 
seen  and  heard  ;  really  it  was  delightful  to  hear  her  talk  in  that 
mirth-provoking  manner  !  In  her  accounts  of  Southern  dandy- 
isms and  fopperies,  she  drew  forth  her  father's  freest  applause. 

"  Why,  Nellie,  you  ought  to  write  a  book,  you  would  beat 
Dickens,"  he  used  to  say  ;  but  her  more  sober  sister  and  cousin 
never  failed  to  reprove  her,  though  gently,  for  her  raillery. 

'*  Well,  Elsy,"  she  cried,  when  she  met  that  little-respected 
personage,  "  Have  any  more  •  colored  ladies  '  called  during  our 
absence  ?"     This  was  done  in  a  kind,  jocular  way  ;  but  the  poor 

negro  felt  it  keenly,  and  held  her  head  down  in  mortification. 

*  *  *  t-  #  #  # 

At  length  the  second  week  of  the  month  of  May  arrived,  and 
with  it  came  my  new  mistress  !  A  messenger,  no  less  a  person 
than  Henry,  was  despatched  for  me.  The  time  for  which  I 
was  hired  at  Mr.  Smith's  having  expired  two  weeks  previously, 
I  hastily  got  myself  ready,  and  Henry  once  again  shouldered 
my  trunk. 

With  a  feeling  of  delight,  I  said  farewell  to  Mrs.  Smith  and 
the  servants  ;  but   when  I  bade  the   young  ladies  good-bye,  I 


354  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

own  to  the  weakness  of  shedding  tears  !  I  tried  to  impress 
upon  Miss  Adele's  mind  the  sentiment  of  love  that  I  cherished 
for  her,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  she  was  not 
too  proud  to  feel  an  interest  in  me. 

All  the  way  to  the  G House,  Henry  was  trying  to  cheer  me 

up,  and  embolden  me  for  the  interview  with  Miss  Nancy.  I 
had  been  looking  anxiously  for  the  time  of  her  arrival,  and  now 
I  shrank  from  it.  It  was  well  for  my  presence  of  mind  that 
Miss  Jane  and  her  husband  had  returned  to  their  homestead,  for 
I  do  not  think  tbat  I  could  have  breathed  freely  in  the  same 
house  with  them,  even  though  their  control  over  me  had  ceased. 

Arriving  at  the  G House,  I  had  not  the  courage  to  venture 

instantly  into  Miss  Nancy's  presence ;  but  sought  refuge,  for  a 
few  moments,  in  Louise's  apartment,  where  she  gave  me  a  very 
cordial  reception,  and  a  delightful  beverage  compounded  of 
blackberries. 


CHAPTEE   XXXVII. 

THE  NEW  MISTRESS — HER  KINDNESS  OF  DISPOSITION — A  PRETTY 
HOME — AND    LOVE-INTERVIEWS    IN    THE   SUMMER    DAYS. 

At  last  I  contrived  to  "screw  my  courage  to  the  sticking- 
place,"  and  go  to  Miss  Nancy's  room. 

I  paused  at  the  closed  door  before  knocking  for  admission. 
When  I  did  knock,  I  heard  a  not  unpleasant  voice  say — 

"  Come  in." 

The  tone  of  that  voice  re-inspired  me,  and  I  boldly  entered. 

There,  resting  upon  the  bed,  was  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most 
benign  faces  that  I  ever  beheld.  Age  had  touched  it  but  to 
beautify.  Serene  and  clear,  from  underneath  the  broad  cap 
frill  shone  her  mild  gray  eyes.  The  wide  brow  was  calm  and 
white  as  an  ivory  tablet,  and  the  lip,  like  a  faded  rose-leaf,  hinted 
the  bright  hue  which  it  had  worn  in  health.  The  cheek,  like  the 
lip,  was  blanched  by  the  hand  of  disease.  "  Ah,''  she  said,  as 
with  a  slight  cough  she  elevated  herself  upon  the  pillow,  "  it  is 
you,  Ann.  You  are  a  little  tardy.  I  have  been  looking  for 
you  for  the  last  half-hour." 

"  I  have  been  in  the  house  some  time,  Miss  Nancy,  but  had 
not  the  courage  to  venture  into  your  presence  ;  and  yet  I  have 
been  watching  for  your  arrival  with  the  greatest  anxiety." 

"  You  must  not  be  afraid  of  me,  child,  I  am  but  a  sorry  in- 
valid, who  will,  I  fear,  often  weary  and  overtax  your  patience ; 
but  you  must  bear  with  me  ;  and,  if  you  are  faithful,  I  will  re- 
ward you  for  it.  Henry  has  told  me  that  you  are  pretty  well 
educated,  and  have  a  pleasant  voice  for  reading.  This  delights 
me  much ;  for  your  principal  occupation  will  be  to  read  to  me." 

Certainly  this  pleased  me  greatly,  for  I  saw  at  once  that  I 

[355] 


356  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

was  removed  from  the  stultifying  influences  which  had  so  long 
been  exercised  over  my  mind.  Now  I  should  find  literary  food 
to  supply  my  craving.     My  eyes  fairly  sparkled,  as  I  answered, 

"  This  is  what  I  have  long  desired,  Miss  Nancy ;  and  you 
have  assigned  to  me  the  position  I  most  covet." 

"  I  am  glad  I.  have  pleased  you,  child.  It  is  my  pleasure  to 
.  gratify  others.  Our  lives  are  short,  at  best,  and  he  or  she  only 
lives  truly  who  does  the  most  good." 

This  was  a  style  and  manner  of  talk  that  charmed  me. 
Beautiful  example  and  type  of  womankind  !  I  felt  like  doing 
reverence  to  her. 

She  reached  her  thin  hand  out  to  help  herself  to  a  glass  of 
water,  that  stood  on  a  stand  near  by.  I  sprang  forward  to  re- 
lieve her. 

"  Ah,  thank  you,"  she  said,  in  a  most  bland  tone  ;  "  I  am  very 
weak ;  the  slightest  movement  convinces  me  of  the  failure  of 
my  strength." 

I  begged  that  she  would  not  exert  herself,  but  always  call  on 
me  for  everything  that  she  needed. 

''  1  came  here  to  serve  you,  and  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Miss 
Nancy,  I  shall  be  most  happy  in  doing  it.  Mine  will,  I  believe, 
truly  be  a  '  labor  of  love.'  " 

Another  sweet  smile,  with  the  gilded  light  of  a  sunbeam, 
broke  over  her  calm,  sweet  face  1  Bless  her !  she  and  all  of  her 
class  should  be  held  as  "blessed  among  women;"  for  do  they 
not  walk  with  meek  and  reverent  footsteps  in  the  path  of  her, 
the  great  model  and  prototype  of  all  the  sex  ? 

When  I  had  been  with  her  but  a  few  days,  she  informed  me 
that,  as  soon  as  her  health  permitted,  she  intended  being  re- 
moved to  her  house  on  Walnut  street.  I  was  not  particularly 
anxious  for  this  ;  for  my  sojourn  at  the  G house  was  per- 
fectly delightful  My  frequent  intercourse  with  Henry  and 
Louise,  was  a  source  of  intense  pleasure  to  me.  I  was  allowed 
to  pass  the  evenings  with  them.  Truly  were  those  hours  dear  and 
bright      Henry  played  upon  his  banjo,  and  sang  to  us  the  most 


A    CONVERSATION.  357 

enrapturing  songs,  airs  and  glees  ;  and  Louise  generally  sup- 
plied us  with  cakes  and  lemonade  !  How  exquisite  was  my 
happiness,  as  there  we  sat  upon  the  little  balcony  gazing  at  the 
Indiana  shore,  and  talking  of  the  time  when  Henry  and  I  should 
be  free. 

"  How  much  remains  to  be  paid  to  your  master,  Henry," 
asked  Louise. 

"  I  have  paid  all  but  three  hundred  and  fifty  ;  one  hundred 
of  which  I  already  have  ;  so,  in  point  of  fact,  I  lack  only  two 
hundred  and  fifty,"  said  Henry. 

"  I  am  very  anxious  to  leave  here  this  fall.  I  wish  to  go  to 
Montreal.  Now.  if  you  could  make  your  arrangements  to  go 
on  with  me,  I  should  be  glad.  I  shall  require  the  services  and 
attentions  of  a  man;  and,  if  you  have  not  realized  the  money 
by  that  time,  I  think  I  can  lend  it  to  you,"  returned  Louise. 

A  bright  light  shone  in  Henry's  eye,  as  he  returned  his 
thanks ;  but  quickly  the  coming  shadow  banished  that  radiance 
of  joy. 

"  But  think  of  her,"  he  said  tenderly,  laying  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder;  "  what  can  she  do  without  us,  or  what  should  I  be 
without  her  ?" 

"  Oh,  think  not  of  me,  dearest,  I  have  a  good  home,  and  am 
well  cared  for.  Go,  and  as  soon  as  you  can,  make  the  money, 
and  come  back  for  me." 

"  Live  years  away  from  you  ?  Oh,  no,  no  !"  and  he  wound 
his  arm  around  my  waist,  and,  most  naturally,  my  head  rested 
upon  his  shoulder.  Loud  and  heavy  was  his  breathing,  and  I 
knew  that  a  fierce  struggle  was  raging  in  his  breast. 

"  I  will  never  leave  her,  Louise,"  he  at  length  replied. 
"  That  tyrant,  the  law,  may  part  us  ;  but,  my  free  will  and  act 
— never." 

"Ah,  well,"  added  she,  as  she  looked  upon  us,  "you  will 
think  better  of  this  after  you  give  it  a  little  reflection.  This  is 
only  love's  delusion;"  and,  in  her  own  quiet,  sensible  way,  she 
turned  the  stream  of  conversation  into  another  channel. 

I  think  now,  with  pleasure,  of  the  lovely  scenes  I   enjoyed 


358  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLVAE. 

on  those  evenings,  with  the  fire-flies  playing  in  the  air ;  and 
many  times  have  I  thought  how  beautifully  and  truly  they 
typify  the  illusive  glancings  of  hope^darting  here  and  there 
with  their  fire-lit  wings  ;  eluding  our  grasp,  and  sparkling  e'en 
as  they  flit. 

####### 

A  few  weeks  after  my  installation  in  the  new  office,  my  mis- 
tress, whose  health  had  been  improving  under  my  nursing, 
began  to  get  ready  to  move  to  her  sweet  little  cottage  residence 
on  Walnut  street.  I  was  not  anxious  for  the  change,  notwith- 
standing it  gave  me  many  local  advantages  ;  for  I  should  be 
removed  from  Henry,  and  though  I  knew  that  I  could  see 
him  often,  yet  the  same  roof  would  not  cover  us.  But  my  life, 
hitherto,  had  been  too  dark  and  oppressed  for  me  to  pause 
and  mourn  over  the  "  crumpled  rose-leaf;"  and  so,  with  right 
hearty  good  will  I  set  to  work  "packing  Miss  Nancy's  trunk," 
and  gathering  up  her  little  articles  that  had  lain  scattered  about 
the  room. 

An  upholsterer  had  been  sent  out  to  get  the  house  ready  for 
us.  When  we  were  on  the  eve  of  starting,  Henry  came  to  carry 
the  luggage,  and  Miss  Nancy  paid  him  seventy-five  cents,  at 
which  he  took  off  his  hat,  made  a  low  bow,  and  said, 

"  Thank  you,  Missis." 

Miss  Nancy  was  seated  on  the  most  comfortable  cushion,  and 
I  directly  opposite,  fanning  her, 

We  drove  up  to  the  house,  a  neat  little  brick  cottage,  painted 
white,  with  green  shutters,  and  a  deep  yard  in  front,  thickly 
swarded,  with  a  variety  of  flowers,  and  a  few"  forest  trees. 
Beautiful  exotics,  in  rare  plaster,  and  stone  vases,  stood  about 
in  the  yard,  and  a  fine  cast-iron  watch-dog  slept  upon  the  front 
steps.  Passing  through  the  broad  hall,  you  had  a  fine  view  of 
the  grounds  beyond,  which  were  handsomely  decorated.  The 
out-buildings  were  all  neatly  painted  or  white-washed.  A 
thorough  air  of  neatness  presided  over  the  place.  On  the  right 
of  the  hall  was  the  parlor,  furnished  in  the  very  perfection  of 
taste  and  simplicity. 


A    NEW   HOUSE.  359 

The  carpet  was  of  blue,  bespeckled  with  yellow  ;  a  sofa  of 
blue  brocatelle,  chairs,  and  ottomans  of  the  same  material, 
were  scattered  about.  A  cabinet  stood  over  in  the  left  corner, 
filled  with  the  collections  and  curiosities  of  many  years'  gath- 
ering, whilst  the  long  blue  curtains,  with  festoonings  of  lace, 
swept  to  the  floor  !  Adjoining  the  parlor  was  the  dining-room, 
with  its  oaken  walls,  and  cane-colored  floor-cloth.  Opposite  to 
the  parlor,  and  fronting  the  street,  was  Miss  Nancy's  room,  with 
its  French  bedstead,  lounge,  bureau,  bookcase,  table,  and  all 
the  et  ceteras  of  comfort.  Opening  out  from  her  room  was  a 
small  apartment,  just  large  enough  to  contain  a  bed,  chair,  and 
wardrobe,  with  a  cheap  little  mirror  overhanging  a  tasteful 
dresser,  whereon  were  laid  a  comb,  brush,  soap,  basin,  pitcher, 
&c.  This  room  had  been  prepared  for  me  by  my  kind  mistress. 
Pointing  it  out,  she  said, 

"  That,  Ann,  is  your  castle."     I  could  not  restrain  my  tears. 

"  Heaven  send  me  grace  to  prove  my  gratitude  to  you,  kind 
Miss  Nancy,"  I  sobbed  out. 

"  Why,  my  poor  girl,  I  deserve  no  thanks  for  the  performance 
of  my  duty.  You  are  a  human  being,  my  good,  attentive  nurse, 
and  I  am  bound  to  consider  your  comfort  or  prove  unworthy  of 
my  avowed  principles." 

"  This  is  so  unlike  what  I  have  been  used  to,  Miss  Nancy, 
that  it  excites  my  wonder  as  well  as  gratitude." 

"  I  fear,  poor  child,  that  you  have  served  in  a  school  of  rough 
experience  !  You  are  so  thoroughly  disciplined,  that,  at  times, 
you  excite  my  keenest  pity." 

"Yes,  ma'm,  I  have  had  all  sorts  of  trouble.  The  only  marvel 
is  that  I  am  not  utterly  brutalized." 

"  Some  time  you  must  tell  me  your  history  ;  but  not  now,  my 
nerves  are  too  unquiet  to  listen  to  an  account  so  harrowing  as  I 
know  your  recital  must  be." 

As   I   adjusted  the  pillow  and  arranged  the   beautiful  silk 
spread  (her  own  manufacture),  I  observed  that  her  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears.     I  said  nothing,  but  the   sight  of  those  tears 
served  to  soften  many  a  painful  recollection  of  former  years. 


360  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

I  am  conscious,  in  writing  these  pages,  that  there  will  be  few 
of  my  white  readers  who  can  enter  fully  into  my  feelings.  It 
is  impossible  for  them  to  know  how  deeply  the  slightest  act  of 
kindness  impressed  me — how  even  a  word  or  tone  gently  spoken 
called  up  all  my  thankfulness  !  Those  to  whom  kindness  is 
common,  a  mere  household  article,  whose  ears  are  greeted  morn- 
ing, noon  and  night,  with  loving  sounds  and  kind  tones,  will 
deem  this  strange  and  exaggerated ;  but,  let  them  recollect  that 
I  was  a  slave — not  a  mere  servant,  but  a  perpetual  slave,  ac- 
cording to  the  abhorred  code  of  Kentucky ;  and  their  wonder 
will  cease. 

The  first  night  that  I  threw  myself  down  on  my  bed  to  sleep 
(did  I  state  that  I  had  a  bedstead — that  I  had  actually  what 
slaves  deemed  a  great  luxury — a  high-post  bedstead  ?)  I  felt  as 
proud  as  a  queen.  Henry  had  been  to  see  me.  I  entertained 
him  in  a  nice,  clean,  carpeted  kitchen,  until  a  few  minutes  of 
ten  o'clock,  when  he  left  me  ;  for  at  that  hour,  by  the  city  ordi- 
nance, he  was  obliged  to  be  at  home. 

"  What,"  I  thought,  "  have  I  now  to  desire  ?  Like  the  weary 
dove  sent  out  from  the  ark,  I  have  at  last  found  land,  peace 
and  safety.  Here  I  can  rest  contentedly  beneath  the  waving 
of  the  olive  branches  that  guard  the  sacred  portal  of  home  ! 
Home  !  home  this  truly  was  !  A  home  where  the  heart  would 
always  love  to  lark ;  and  how  blessed  seemed  the  word  to  me, 
now  that  I  comprehended  its  practical  significance  !  No  more 
was  it  a  fable,  an  expression  merely  used  to  adorn  a  song  or  round 
a  verse ! 

That  first  night  that  I  spent  at  home  was  not  given  up  to 
sleep.  No,  I  was  too  happy  for  that !  Through  the  long,  mys- 
terious hours,  I  lay  wakeful  on  my  soft  and  pleasant  pillow, 
weaving  fairest  fancies  from  the  dim  chaos  of  happy  hopes. 
Adown  the  sloping  vista  of  the  future  I  descried  nought  but 
shade  and  flowers  ! 

With  my  new  mistress,  I  was  more  like  a  companion  than  a 
servant.  My  duties  were  light — merely  to  read  to  her,  nurse 
her,  and  do  her  sewing;  and/'as  she  had  very  little  of  the  latter, 


DOMESTIC    OCCUPATION.  361 

I  may  as  well  set  it  down  as  the  "  extras  "  of  my  business,  rather 
than  the  business  itself. 

I  rose  every  morning,  winter  and  summer,  at  five  o'clock,  and 
arranged  Miss  Nancy's  room  whilst  she  slept ;  and,  so  accus- 
tomed had  she  become  to  my  light  tread,  that  she  slept  as 
soundly  as  though  no  one  had  been  stirring.  After  this  was 
done,  I  placed  the  family  Bible  upon  a  stand  beside  her  bed  ; 
then  took  my  sewing  and  seated  myself  at  the  window,  until 
she  awoke.  Then  I  assisted  her  in  making  her  morning  toilette, 
which  was  very  simple ;  wheeled  the  easy  chair  near  the  bed,  and 
helped  her  into  it.  After  which  she  read  a  chapter  from  the  holy 
book,  followed  by  a  beautiful,  extemporaneous  prayer,  in  which 
we  were  joined  by  Biddy,  the  Irish  cook.  After  this,  Miss 
Nancy's  breakfast  was  brought  in  on  a  large  silver  tray, — a 
breakfast  consisting  of  black  tea,  Graham  bread,  and  mutton 
chop.  In  her  appetite,  as  in  her  character,  she  was  simple. 
After  this  was  over,  Biddy  and  I  breakfasted  in  the  kitchen. 
Our  fare  was  scarcely  so  plain,  for  hearty  constitutions  made  us 
averse  to  the  abstemiousness  of  our  mistress.  We  had  hot 
coffee,  steaming  steaks,  omelettes  and  warm  biscuits. 

"Ah,  but  she  is  a  love  of  a  lady  !"  exclaimed  Biddy,  as  she 
ate  away  heartily  at  these  luxuries.  "  Where  in  this  city  would 
Ave  find  such  a  mistress,  that  allows  the  servants  better  fare  than 
she  takes  herself?  And  then  she  never  kapes  me  from  church. 
I  can  attend  the  holy  mass,  and  even  go  to  vespers  every  Sun- 
day of  my  life.  The  Lord  have  her  soul  for  it !  But  she  is  as 
good  as  a  canonized  saint,  if  she  is  a  Protestant !" 

Sometimes  I  used  to  repeat  these  conversations  to  Miss  Xancy. 
They  never  failed  to  amuse  her  greatly. 

"  Poor  Biddy,"  she  would  say,  in  a  quiet  way,  with  a  sweet 
smile,  "  ought  to  know  that  true  religion  is  the  same  in  all.  It 
is  not  the  being  a  member  of  a  particular  church,  or  believing 
certain  dogmas  of  faith,  that  make  us  religious,  heirs  of  God, 
and  joint  heirs  with  Christ.  It  is  the  living  religion,  not  the 
simple  believing  of  it,  that  constitutes  us  Christians.  We  must 
feel  that  all  men  are  our  brothers,  and  all  women  our  sisters ; 
16 


362  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

for  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  there  will  be  no  distinction  of 
race  or  color,  and  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  live  differently 
here.  The  Saviour  of  the  world  associated  with  the  humblest. 
His  chosen  twelve  were  the  fishermen  of  Galilee.  I  want  to 
live  in  constant  preparation  for  death ;  but,  alas  !  my  weak  en- 
deavor is  but  seldom  crowned  with  success." 

How  reverently  I  looked  upon  her  at  such  times  !  What  a 
beautiful  saint  she  was  ! 

One  evening  in  the  leafy  month  of  June,  when  the  intensity 
of  summer  begins  to  make  itself  felt,  1  took  my  little  basket, 
filled  with  some  ruffling  that  I  was  embroidering  for  Miss  Nancy's 
wrapper,  and  seated  myself  upon  the  little  portico  at  the  back 
of  the  house.  I  had  been  reading  to  her  the  greater  portion 
of  the  day,  and  felt  that  it  was  pleasant  to  be  left  in  an  indo- 
lent, dreamy  state  of  mind,  that  required  no  concentration  of 
thought.  As  my  fingers  moved  lazily  along,  I  was  humming 
an  old  air,  that  I  had  heard  in  far  less  happy  days.  Every- 
thing around  me  was  so  pleasant !  The  setting  sun  was  flinging 
floods  of  glory  over  the  earth,  and  the  young  moon  was  out 
upon  her  new  wing,  softening  and  beautifying  the  scene.  Afar 
off,  the  lull  of  pleasant  waters  and  the  music-roar  of  the  falls 
sounded  dreamily  in  my  ear !  I  laid  my  work  down  in  the 
basket,  and,  with  closed  eyes,  thought  over  the  events  and  in- 
cidents of  my  past  life  of  suffering ;  and,  as  the  dreary  picture 
of  my  troubles  at  Mr.  Peterkin's  returned  to  my  mind,  and  my 
subsequent  imprisonment  in  the  city,  my  trials  at  "  the  pen," 
and  then  this  my  safe  harbor  and  haven  of  rest,  so  strange  the 
whole  seemed,  that  I  almost  doubted  the  reality,  and  feared  to 
open  my  eyes,  lest  the  kindly,  illusive  dream  should  be  broken 
forever.  But  no,  it  was  no  dream ;  for,  upon  turning  my  head,  I 
spied  through  the  unclosed  door  of  the  dining-room  the  careful  ar- 
rangement of  the  tea-table.  There  it  stood,  with  its  snowy  cover, 
upon  Avhich  were  placed  the  fresh  loaf  of  Graham  bread,  the  roll  of 
sweet  butter,  some  parings  of  cheese,  the  glass  bowl  of  fruit  and 
pitcher  of  cream,  together  with  the  friendly  tea-urn  of  bright 
silver,  from  which  I,  even  1,  had  often  been  supplied  with  the 


A    SUMMER    EVENING.  363 

delightful  beverage.  And  then,  stepping  through  the  door,  with 
a  calm  smile  on  her  face,  was  Miss  Nancy  herself  I  How  beau- 
tifully she  looked  in  her  Avhite,  dimity  wrapper,  with  the  pretty 
blue  girdle,  and  tiny  lace  cap  !  She  gazed  out  upon  the  yard, 
with  the  blooming  roses,  French  pinks,  and  Colombines  that 
grew  in  luxuriance.  Stepping  upon  the  sward,  she  gathered  a 
handful  of  flowers,  clipping  them  nicely  from  the  bush  with  a 
pair  of  scissors,  that  she  wore  suspended  by  a  chain  to  her  side. 
Seeing  me  on  the  portico,  she  said, 

"  Ann,  bring  me  my  basket  and  thread  here,  and  wheel  my 
arm-chair  out  ;  I  wish  to  sit  with  you  here." 

I  obeyed  her  with  pleasure,  for  I  always  liked  to  have  her 
near  me.  She  was  so  much  more  the  friend  than  the  mistress, 
that  I  never  felt  any  reserve  in  her  presence.  All  was  love. 
As  she  took  her  seat  in  the  arm-chair,  I  threw  a  shawl  over  her 
shoulders  to  protect  her  from  any  injurious  influence  of  the  even- 
ing air.  She  busied  herself  tying  up  the  flowers  ;  and  their 
arrangement  of  color,  &c,  with  a  view  to  effect,  would  have 
done  credit  to  a  florist.  My  admiration  was  so  much  excited, 
that  I  could  not  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  an  expression  of  it. 

"  Ah,  yes/;  she  answered,  "  this  was  one  of  the  amusements 
of  my  youth.  Many  a  bouquet  have  I  tied  up  in  my  dear  old 
home." 

I  thought  I  detected  a  change  in  her  color,  and  heard  a  sigh, 
as  she  said  this. 

"  Of  what  State  are  you  a  native,  Miss  Nancy  ?" 

"Dear  old  Massachusetts,"  she  answered,  with  a  glow  of  en- 
thusiasm. 

"  It  is  the  State,  of  all  others  in  the  Union,  for  which  I  have 
the  most  respect." 

''Ah,  well  may  you  say  that,  poor  girl,"  she  replied,  ''  for  its 
people  treat  your  unfortunate  race  with  more  humanity  than 
any  of  the  others." 

"  I  have  read  a  great  deal  of  their  liberality  and  cultivation, 
of  both  mind  and  heart,  which  has  excited  my  admiring  interest. 
Then,  too,  I  have  known  those  born  and  reared  beneath  the 


364  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

shadow  of  its  wise  and  beneficent  laws,  and  the  better  I  knew 
them,  the  more  did  my  admiration  for  the  State  increase.  Now 
I  feel  that  Massachusetts  is  doubly  dear  to  me,  since  I  have 
learned  that  it  is  your  birth-place." 

She  did  not  say  anything,  but  her  mild  eyes  were  suffused 
with  tears. 

Just  as  I  was  about  to  speak  to  her  of  Mr.  Trueman,  Biddy 
came  to  announce  tea,  and,  after  that,  Miss  Nancy  desired  to  be 
left  alone.  As  was  his  custom,  with  eight  o'clock  came  Henry. 
We  sat  out  on  the  portico,  with  the  moonlight  shining  over  us, 
and  talked  of  the  future  !  I  told  him  what  Miss  Nancy  said  of 
Massachusetts,  and,  I  believe,  he  was  seized  with  the  idea  of 
going  thither  after  purchasing  himself. 

He  was  unusually  cheerful.  He  had  made  a  great  deal  in 
the  last  few  months;  had  grown  to  be  quite  a  favorite  with  the 
keeper  of  the  hotel,  and  was  liberally  paid  for  his  Sunday  and 
holiday  labors,  and,  by  errands  for,  and  donations  from,  the 
boarders,  had  contrived  to  lay  up  a  considerable  sum. 

"  I  hope,  dearest,  to  be  able  soon  to  accomplish  my  freedom  ; 
then  I  shall  be  ready  to  buy  you.  How  much  does  Miss  Nancy 
ask  for  you?" 

"  Oh,  Henry,  I  cannot  leave  her,  even  if  I  were  able  to  pay 
down  every  cent  that  she  demands  for  me.  I  should  dislike  to 
go  away  from  her.  She  is  so  kind  and  good  ;  has  been  such  a 
friend  to  me  that  I  could  not  desert  her.  Who  would  nurse 
her  ?  Who  would  feel  the  same  interest  in  her  that  I  do  ?  No, 
I  will  stay  with  her  as  long  as  she  lives,  and  do  all  I  can  to 
prove  my  gratitude." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Ann  ?  Would  you  refuse  to  make  me 
happy  1  Miss  Nancy  has  other  friends  who  would  wait  upon 
her." 

"  But,  Henry,  that  does  not  release  me  from  my  obligation. 
When  she  was  on  the  eve  of  starting  upon  a  journey,  you  went 
to  her  with  the  story  of  my  danger.  She  promptly  consented  to 
buy  me  without  even  seeing  me.  I  was  not  purchased  as  an  arti- 
cle of  property ;  with  the  noble  liberality  of  a  philanthropist, 


A    SURPRISE.  365 

she  ransomed,  at  a  heavy  price,  a  suffering  sister,  and  shall  I 
be  such  an  ingrate  as  to  leave  her?  No,  she  and  Mr.  Trueman 
of  Boston,  are  the  two  beings  whom  I  would  willingly  serve  for- 
ever." 

Just  then  a  deep  sigh  burst  from  the  full  heart  of  some  one, 
and  I  thought  I  heard  a  retreating  footstep. 

"  Who  can  that  have  been  ?"  asked  Henry. 

We  examined  the  hall,  the  dining-room,  my  apartment ;  and 
I  knocked  at  Miss  Nancy's  door,  but,  receiving  no  answer,  I 
judged  she  was  asleep. 

"  It  was  but  one  of  those  peculiar  voices  of  the  night,  which 
are  the  better  heard  from  this  intense  silence,"  said  Henry,  and, 
finding  that  my  alarm  was  quieted,  he  bade  me  an  affectionate 
good-night,  and  so  we  parted. 


CHAPTEE    XXXVIII. 

AN    AWFUL     REVELATION — MORE  CLOUDS    TO    DARKEN    THE    SUN 
OF   LIFE — SICKNESS    AND    BLESSED    INSENSIBILITY. 

I  slept  -uninterruptedly  that  night,  and,  on  awaking  in  the 
morning,  I  was  surprised  to  find  it  ten  minutes  past  five.  Hur- 
rying on  my  clothes,  I  went  to  Miss  Nancy's  apartment,  and 
was  much  surprised  to  find  her  sitting  in  her  easy  chair,  her 
toilette  made.  Looking  up  from  the  Bible,  which  lay  open  on 
the  stand  before  her,  she  said, 

"  I  have  stolen  a  march,  Ann,  and  have  risen  before  you." 

"  Yes,  ma'm,'*'  replied  I,  in  a  mortified  tone,  "  I  am  ten  min- 
utes behind  the  time ;  I  am  very  sorry,  and  hope  you  will  ex- 
cuse me." 

"  No  apologies,  now  ;  I  hope  you  do  not  take  me  for  a  cruel, 
exacting  task-mistress,  who  requires  every  inch  of  your  time." 

"  No,  indeed,  1  do  not,  for  I  know  you  to  be  the  kindest  mis- 
tress and  best  friend  in  the  world." 

"And  now,  Ann,  I  will  read  some  from  the  Lamentations 
of  Jeremiah ;  and  Ave  will  unite  in  family  prayer.'' 

At  the  ringing  of  the  little  bell  Biddy  quickly  appeared, 
and  we  seated  ourselves  near  Miss  Nancy,  and  listened  to  her 
beautiful  voice  as  it  broke  forth  in  the  plaintive  eloquence  of 
the  holy  prophet  ! 

''  Let  us  pray,"  she  said,  fervently,  extending  her  thin,  white 
hands  upward,  and  we  all  sank  upon  our  knees.  She  prayed 
for  grace  to  rest  on  the  household ;  for  its  extension  over  the 
world  ;  that  it  might  visit  the  dark  land  of  the  South  ;  that  the 
blood  of  Christ  might  soften  the  hearts  of  slave-holders.  She 
asked,  in  a  special  manner,  for  power  to  carry  out  her  good  in- 
tentions ;  prayed  that  the  blessing'  of  God  might  be  given  to 
me,  in  a  particular  manner,  to  enable  me  'to  meet  the  trials  of 
life,  and  invoked  benedictions  upon  Biddy. 

[866] 


SWEET    HOPES.  367 

When  we  rose,  both  Biddy  and  I  were  weeping ;  and  as 
we  left  her,  Biddy  broke  forth  in  all  her  Irish  enthusiasm,  ''The 
Lord  love  her  heart !  but  she  is  sanctified  !  I  never  heard  a 
prettier  prayer  said  in  the  Cathedral  /" 

#  *  #  #  * 

Miss  Nancy's  health  improved  a  great  deal.  She  began  to 
walk  of  evenings  through  the  yard,  and  a  little  in  the  city.  I 
always  attended  her.  Of  mornings  we  rode  in  a  carriage  that 
she  hired  for  the  occasion,  and  of  evenings  Henry  came,  and 
always  brought  with  him  his  banjo. 

One  evening  he  and  Louise  came  round  to  sit  with  me,  and 
after  we  had  been  out  upon  the  portico  listening  to  Henry's 
songs,  Miss  Nancy  bade  me  go  to  the  sideboard  and  get  some 
cake  and  wine.  Placing  it  on  the  table  in  the  dining-room,  I 
invited  them,  in  Miss  Nancy's  name,  to  come  in  and  partake  of 
it.  After  proposing  the  health  of  my  kind  Mistress,  to  which 
we  all  drank,  Biddy  joining  in,  Louise  pledged  a  glass  to  the 
speedy  ransom  of  Henry.  Just  then  Miss  Nancy  entered,  say- 
ing: 

<<  My  good  Henry,  when  you  buy  yourself,  and  find  a  home 
in  the  North,  write  us  word  where  you  have  established  your- 
self, and  I  will  immediately  make  out  Ann's  free  papers,  and 
remove  thither;  but  I  cannot  think  of  losing  my  good  nurse.  So, 
for  her's,  your's  and  my  own  convenience,  I  will  take  up  my 
residence  wherever  you  may  settle.  Stop  now,  Ann,  no  thanks  ; 
I  know  all  about  your  gratitude,  for  I  was  a  pleased,  though 
unintentional  listener  to  a  conversation  between  yourself  and 
Henry,  in  which  I  found  out  how  deep  is  your  attachment  to 
me." 

Hers,  then,  was  the  sigh  which  had  so  alarmed  me  !  It  was 
all  explained.  I  had  no  words  to  express  my  overflowing  heart. 
My  whole  soul  seemed  melted.  Henry's  eyes  were  filled  with 
grateful  tears.  He  sank  upon  his  knees  and  kissed  the  hem  of 
Miss  Nancy's  dress. 

"No,  no,  my  brave-hearted  man,  do  not  kneel  to  me.  I  am 
but  the  humble  instrument  under  Heaven ;   and,  oh,  how  often 


368  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

Lave  I  prayed  for  such  an  opportunity  as  this  to  do  good,  and 
dispense  happiness." 

And  so  saying  she  glided  out  of  the  room. 

"  "Well,"  exclaimed  Biddy,  "  she  is  more  than  a  saint,  she  is 
an  angel,"  and  she  wiped  the  tears  from  her  honest  eyes. 

"  I  have  known  her  for  some  time,"  said  Louise,  "and  never 
saw  her  do,  or  heard  of  her  doing  a  wrong  action.  She  is  very 
different  from  her  brother.     Does  he  come  here  often,  Ann  ?" 

"  Not  often  ;  about  once  a  fortnight." 

"  He  is  too  much  taken  up  with  business ;  hasn't  a  thought 
outside  of  his  counting-room.  He  doesn't  share  in  any  of  her 
philanthropic  ideas." 

"  She  hasn't  her  equal  on  earth,"  added  Henry.  "  Mr.  Mood- 
well  is  a  good  man,  though  not  good  enough  to  be  her  brother." 

Thus  passed  away  the  evening,  until  the  near  approach  of 
ten  o'clock  warned  them  to  leave. 

I  was  too  happy  for  sleep.  Many  a  wakeful  night  had  I 
passed  from  unhappiness,  but  now  I  was  sleepless  from  joy. 

The  next  morning,  after  Miss  Nancy  had  breakfasted,  I  asked 
her  what  I  should  read  to  her. 

"  Nothing  this  morning,  Ann.  I  had  rather  you  would  talk 
with  me.  Let  us  arrange  for  the  future  ;  but  first  tell  me  how 
much  money  does  Henry  lack  to  buy  himself?" 

"  About  one  hundred  dollars." 

"  I  think  I  can  help  him  to  make  that  up." 

"  You  have  already  done  enough,  dear  Miss  Nancy.  We 
could  not  ask  more  of  you." 

"  No,  but  I  am  anxious  to  do  all  I  can  for  you,  my  good  girl. 
You  are  losing  the  greenest  part  of  your  lives.  I  feel  that  it  is 
wrong  for  you  to  remain  thus." 

Seeing  that  I  was  in  an  unusually  calm  mood,  she  asked  me  to 
tell  her  the  story  of  my  life,  or  at  least  the  main  incidents.  I 
entered  upon  the  narrative  with  the  same  fidelity  that  I  have 
observed  in  writing  these  memoirs.  At  many  points  and  scenes 
I  observed  her  weeping  bitterly.    Fearing  that  the  excitement 


THE    FRIGHT.  369 

might  prove  too  great  for  her  strength,  I  several  times  urged 
her  to  let  me  stop ;  hut  she  begged  me  to  go  on  without  heed- 
ing her,  for  she  was  deeply  interested. 

When  I  came  to  the  account  of  my  meeting  with  Mr.  True- 
man,  she  bent  eagerly  forward,  and  asked  if  it  was  Justinian 
Trueman,  of  Boston.  Upon  my  answering  in  the  affirmative, 
she  exclaimed : 

"  How  like  him  !  The  same  noble,  generous,  disinterested 
spirit !" 

"  Do  you  know  him,  Miss  Nancy  ?" 
Oh  yes,  child,  he  is  one  of  our  prominent  Northern  men,  a 
very  able  lawyer ;   every  one  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts 
knows  him  by  reputation,  but  I  have  a  personal  acquaintance 
also." 

Just  as  I  was  about  to  ask  her  something  of  Mr.  Trueman's 
history,  Biddy  came  running  in,  exclaiming  : 

"  Oh,  dear  me !  Miss  Nancy  !  what  do  you  think  %  They  say 
that  Mr.  Barkoff.  the  green  grocer,  has  let  his  wife  whip  a 
colored  woman  to  death." 

"  Oh,  it  can't  be  true,"  cried  Miss  Nancy,  as  she  started  up 
from  her  chair.  "  It  is,  I  trust,  some  slanderous  piece  of 
gossip." 

"  Oh,  the  Lord  love  your  saintly  heart,  but  I  do  believe  'tis 
true,  for,  as  I  went  down  the  street  to  market,  I  heard  some 
awful  screaming  in  there,  and  I  asked  a  girl,  standing  on  the 
pavement,  what  it  meant ;  and  she  said  Mrs.  Barkoff  was 
whipping  a  colored  woman;  then,  when  I  came  back  there  was 
a  crowd  of  children  and  colored  people  round  the  back  gate,  and 
one  of  them  told  me  the  woman  was  dead,  and  that  she  died 
shouting." 

''  Oh,  God,  how  fearful  is  this  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Nancy,  as 
the  big  tears  rolled  down  her  pale  cheeks.  "  Give  me,  oh, 
sweet  Jesus,  the  power  to  pray  as  Thou  didst,  to  the  Eter- 
nal Father,  '  to  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do !'  " 

"  Come,  Ann,"  continued  the  impetuous  Biddv,  "  vou  go  with 
16* 


370         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

me,  and  we'll  try  to  find  out  all  about  it.  We  will  go  to  see 
the  woman." 

"  I  cannot  leave  Miss  Nancy."  * 

"  Yes,  go  with  her,  Ann ;  but  don't  allow  her  to  say  anything 
imprudent.  Poor  Biddy  has  such  a  good,  philanthropic  heart, 
that  she  forgets  the  patient  spirit  which  Christianity  incul- 
cates." 

With  a  strange  kind  of  awe,  I  followed  Biddy  through  the 
streets,  scarcely  heeding  her  impassioned  garrulity.  The  blood 
seemed  freezing  in  my  veins,  and  my  teeth  chattered  as  though 
it  had  been  the  depth  of  winter.  As  we  drew  near  the  place,  I 
knew  the  house  by  the  crowd  that  had  gathered  around  the 
back  and  side  gates. 

"  Let  us  enter  here,"  said  Biddy,  as  she  placed  her  hand  upon 
the  heavy  plank  gate  at  the  back  of  the  lot. 

"  Stop,  Biddy,  stop,"  I  gasped  out,  as  I  held  on  to  the  gate 
for  support,  "  I  feel  that  I  shall  suffocate.  Give  me  one  mo- 
ment to  get  my  breath." 

"  Oh,  Ann,  you  are  only  frightened,"  and  she  led  me  into 
the  yard,  where  we  found  about  a  dozen  persons,  mostly 
colored. 

"  Where  is  the  woman  that's  been  kilt  1"  inquired  Biddy, 
of  a  mulatto  girl. 

"  She  ain't  quite  dead.  Pity  she  isn't  out  of  her  misery,  poor 
soul,"  said  the  mulatto  girl. 

"  But  where  is"  she  ?"  demanded  Biddy. 

"  Oh,  in  thar,  the  first  room  in  the  basement,"  and,  half-led 
by  Biddy,  I  passed  in  through  a  mean,  damp,  musty  basement. 
The  noxious  atmosphere  almost  stifled  us.  Turning  to  the  left 
as  directed,  we  entered  a  low,  comfortless  room,  with  brick 
walls  and  floor.  Upon  a  pile  of  straw,  in  this  wretched  place, 
lay  a  bleeding,  torn,  mangled  body,  with  scarcely  life  in  it. 
Two  colored  women  were  bathing  the  wounds  and  wrapping 
greased  cloths  round  the  body.  I  listened  to  her  pitiful  groans, 
until  I  thought  my  forbearance  would  fail  me. 

"Poor  soul  !"  said  one  of  the  colored  women,  "  she  has  had 


A    HORRIBLE    MURDER.  371 

a  mighty  bad  convulsion.  I  wish  she  could  die  and  be  sot  free 
from  misery." 

"  "Whar  is  de  white  folks  ?"  asked  another. 

"  Oh,  dey  is  skeered,  an'  done  run  off  an'  hid  up  stairs." 

"  Who  done  it  ?" 

'*■  Why,  Miss  Barkoff;  she  put  Aunt  Kaisy  to  clean  de  harth, 
an'  you  see,  de  poor  ole  critter  had  a  broken  arm.  De  white 
folks  broke  it  once  when  dey  was  beatin'  of  her,  and  so  she 
couldn't  work  fast.  Well  den,  too,  she'd  been  right  sick  for 
long  time.  You  see  she  was  right  sickly  like,  an'  when  Miss 
Barkoff  come  back — she'd  only  bin  gone  a  little  while — an' 
see'd  dat  de  harth  wasn't  done,  she  fell  to  beatin'  of  de  poor 
ole  sick  critter,  an'  den  bekase  she  cried  an'  hollered,  she  tuck 
her  into  de  coal-house,  gagged  her  mouth,  tied  her  hands  an' 
feet,  an'  fell  to  beatin'  of  her,  an'  she  beat  her  till  she  got  tired, 
den  ole  Barkoff  beat  her  till  he  got  satisfied.  Den  some  colored 
person  seed  him,  an'  tole  him  dat  he  better  stop,  for  Aunt  Kaisy 
was  most  gone." 

"Yes,  'twas  me,"  said  the  other  woman,  "I  was  passin'  'long 
at  de  back  of  de  lot,  an'  I  hearn  a  mighty  quare  noise,  so  I  jist 
looked  through  the  erack,  an'  there  I  seed  him  a  beatin'  of 
her,  an'  I  hollered  to  him  to  stop,  for  de  Lor'  sake,  or  she 
would  die  right  dar.  Den  he  got  skeered  an'  run  off  in  de 
house." 

The  narration  was  here  interrupted  by  a  fearful  groan  from 
the  sufferer.  One  of  the  women  very  gently  turned  her  over, 
with  her  face  full  toward  me. 

Oh,  God  have  mercy  on  me !  In  those  worn,  bruised 
anguish-marked  features,  in  the  glance  of  that  failing,  filmy 
eye,  I  recognized  my  long-lost  mother  !  With  one  loud  shriek 
I  fell  down  beside  her!  After  years  of  bitter  separation,  thus 
to  meet  !  Oh  that  the  recollection  had  faded  from  my  mind, 
but  no,  that  awful  sight  is  ever  before  my  eyes !  I  see  her, 
even  now,  as  there  she  lay  bleeding  to  death  !  Oh  that  I  had 
been  spared  the  knowledge  of  it ! 

There  was  the   same   mark   upon   the   brow,  and,  I   suppose, 


372  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

more  by  that  than  the  remembered  features,  was  I  enabled  to 
indentify  her. 

My  frantic  screams  soon  drew  a  crowd  of  persons  to  the 
room. 

My  mother,  my  dear,  suffering  mother,  unclosed  her  eyes, 
and,  by  that  peculiar  mesmerism  belonging  to  all  mothers,  she 
knew  it  was  her  child  whose  arms  were  around  her. 

"  Ann,  is  it  you  ?"  she  asked  feebly. 

"  Yes,  mother,  it  is  I ;  but,  oh,  how  do  I  find  you  !" 

"  Never  mind  me,  child,  I  feel  that  I  shall  soon  be  at  peace  ! 
'Tis  for  you  that  I  am  anxious.     Have  you  a  good  home  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  oh,  that  you  had  had  such  !" 

"  Thank  God  for  that.  You  are  a  woman  now,  I  think;  but 
I  am  growing  blind,  or  it  is  getting  dark  so  fast  that  I  cannot 
see  you.  Here,  here,  hold  me  Ann,  child,  hold  me  close  to 
you,  I  am  going  through  the  floor,  sinking,  sinking  down. 
Catch  me,  catch  me,  hold  me !  It  is  dark  ;  I  can't  see  you, 
where,  where  are  you?" 

"  Here,  mother,  here,  I  am  close  to  you." 

"Where,  child,  I  can't  see  you  ;  here  catch  me;"  and,  sud- 
denly springing  up  as  if  to  grasp  something,  she  fell  back  upon 
the  straw a  corpse,  ! 

After  such  a  separation,  this  was  our  meeting — and  parting  I 
I  had  hoped  that  life's  bitterest  drop  had  been  tasted,  but  this 
was  as  "  vinegar  upon  nitre." 

When  I  became  conscious  that  the  last  spark  of  life  was 
extinct  in  that  beloved  body,  I  gave  myself  up  to  the  most 
delirious  grief.  As  I  looked  upon  that  horrid,  ghastly,  mangled 
form,  and  thought  it  was  my  mother,  who  had  been  butchered 
by  the  whites,  my  very  blood  was  turned  to  gall,  and  in  this 
chaos  of  mind  I  lost  the  faculty  of  reason. 

******** 

When  my  consciousness  returned  I  was  lying  on  a  bed  in 
my  room,  the  blinds  of  which  were  closed,  and  Miss  Nancy  was 
seated  beside  me,  rubbing  my  hands  with  camphor.  As  I  opened 
my  eyes,  they  met  her  kind  glance  fixed  earnestly  upon  me, 


RETURNING    CONSCIOUSNESS.  373 

"  You  are  better,  Ann,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  gentle  voice.  I 
was  too  languid  to  reply  ;  but  closed  my  eyes  again,  with  a 
faint  smile.  "When  I  once  more  opened  them  I  was  alone,  and 
through  one  shutter  that  had  blown  open,  a  bright  ray  of  sun- 
light stole,  and  revealed  to  me  the  care  and  taste  with  which 
my  room  had  been  arranged.  Fresh  flowers  in  neat  little  vases 
adorned  the  mantel ;  and  the  cage,  containing  Miss  Nancy's 
favorite  canary,  had  been  removed  to  my  room.  The  music 
of  this  delightful  songster  broke  gratefully  upon  my  slowly 
awakening  faculties.  I  rose  from  the  bed,  and  seated  myself 
in  the  large  arm-chair.  Passing  my  hand  across  my  eyes,  I 
attempted  to  recall  the  painful  incidents  of  the  last  few  days ; 
and  as  that  wretched  death-bed  rose  upon  my  memory,  the 
scalding  tears  rushed  to  my  eyes,  and  I  wept  long,  long,  as 
though  my  head  were  turned  to  waters  ! 

Miss  Nancy  entered,  and  finding  me  in  tears  she  said  nothing; 
but  turned  and  left  the  room.  Shortly  after,  Biddy  appeared 
with  some  nourishment, 

"  Laws,  Ann,  but  you  have  been  dreadfully  sick.  You  had 
fever,  and  talked  out  of  your  head.  Henry  was  here  every 
evening.  He  said  that  once  afore,  when  you  took  the  fevers, 
you  was  out  of  your  head,  just  the  same  way.  He  brought  you 
flowers ;  there  they  are  in  the  vase,"  and  she  handed  me  two 
beautiful  bouquets. 

In-  this  pleasant  way  she  talked  on  until  I  had  satisfied  the 
cravings  of  an  empty  stomach  with  the  niceties  she  had  brought 
me. 

That  evening  Henry  came,  and  remained  with  me  about 
half  an  hour.  Miss  Nancy  warned  him  that  it  was  not  well  to 
excite  me  much.  So  with  considerable  reluctance  he  shortened 
his  visit. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIX. 

GRADUAL    RETURN    OF    HAPPY   SPIRITS — BRIGHTER    PROSPECTS — 
AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE. 

When  I  began  to  gain  strength  Miss  Nancy  took  me  out  in 
a  carriage  of  evenings  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  melancholy- 
recollections  that  hung  like  a  pall  around  my  heart,  life  would 
have  been  beautiful  to  me.  As  we  drove  slowly  through  the 
brightly-lighted  streets,  and  looked  in  at  the  gaudy  and  flaunting 
windows,  where  the  gayest  and  most  elegant  articles  of  mer- 
chandise were  exhibited,  I  remarked  to  Miss  Nancy,  with  a 
sigh,  "  Life  might  be  made  a  very  gay  and  cheerful  thing — 
almost  a  pleasure,  were  it  not  for  the  wickedness  of  men." 

''  Ah,  yes,  it  might,  indeed,"  she  replied,  and  the  big  tears 
rested  upon  her  eyelids. 

One  evening  when  we  had  returned  from  a  drive,  I  noticed 
that  she  ate  very  little  supper,  and  her  hand  trembled  violently. 

"You  are  sick,  Miss  Nancy,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  Ann,  I  feel  strangely,"  she  replied. 

"  To-morrow  you  must  go  for  my  brother,  and  I  will  have  a 
lawyer  to  draw  up  my  will.  It  would  be  dreadful  if  I  were  to 
die  suddenly  without  making  a  provision  for  you  ;  then  the 
bonds  of  slavery  would  be  riveted  upon  you,  for  by  law  you 
would  pass  into  my  brother's  possession." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  it  now,  dear  Miss  Nancy,"  I 
said ;  "  your  life  is  more  precious  than  my  liberty." 

"  Not  so,  my  good  girl.  The  dawn  of  your  life  was  dark,  I 
hope  that   the  close   may  be  bright.     The   beginning  of  mine 

[374] 


CONSOLING    FRIENDS.  375 

was  full  of  flowers ;  the  close  will  be  serene,  I  trust ;  but  ah, 
I've  outlived  many  a  blessed  hope  that  was  a  very  rainbow  in 
my  dreaming;  years." 

I  had  always  thought  Miss  Nancy's  early  life  had  been  filled 
with  trouble  ;  else  why  and  whence  her  strange,  subdued,  mel- 
ancholy nature  !  .  How  much  I  would  have  given  had  she  told 
me  her  history ;  yet  I  would  not  add  to  her  sadness  by  asking 
her  to  tell  me  of  it. 

The  next  morning  I  went  for  Mr.  Moodwell,  who,  at  Miss 
Nancy's  instance,  summoned  a  notary.  The  will  was  drawn  up 
and  witnessed  by  two  competent  persons. 

After  this  she  began  to  improve  rapidly.  Her  strength  of 
body  and  cheerfulness  returned.  About  this  time  my  peace  of 
mind  began  to  be  restored.  Of  my  poor  mother  I  never  spoke, 
after  hearing  the  particulars  that  followed  her  death.  She  was 
hurriedly  buried,  without  psalm  or  sermon.  No  notice  was 
taken  by  the  citizens  of  her  murder — why  should  there  be  ? 
Sbe  was  but  a  poor  slave,  grown  old  and  gray  in  the  service  of 
the  white  man ;  and  if  her  master  chose  to  whip  her  to  death, 
who  had  a  right  to  gainsay  him  ?  She  was  his  property  to 
have  and  to  hold;  to  use  or  to  kill,  as  he  thought  best ! 

Give  us  no  more  Fourth  of  July  celebrations  ;  the  rather  let 
us  have  a  Venetian  oligarchy  ! 

Miss  Nancy,  in  her  kind,  persuasive  manner,  soon  lured  my 
thoughts  away  from  such  gloomy  contemplations.  She  sought 
to  point  out  the  pleasant,  easy  pathway  of  wisdom  and  religion, 
and  I  thank  her  now  for  the  good  lessons  she  then  taught  me  ! 
Beneath  such  influence  I  gradually  grew  reconciled  to  my 
troubles.  Miss  Nancy  fervently  prayed  that  they  might  be 
sanctified  io  my  eternal  good  ;  and  so  may  they  ! 

Louise  came  often  to  see  me,  and  I  found  her  then  as  now, 
the  kindest  and  most  willing  friend  ;  everything  that  she  could 
do  to  please  me  she  did.  She  brought  me  many  gifts  of  books, 
flowers,  fruits,  &c.  I  may  have  been  petulant  and  selfish  in  my 
grief;  but  those  generous  friends  bore  patiently  with  me. 

Pleasant  walks  I  used  to  take  with  Henry  of  evenings,  and 


576  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE   SLAVE. 

he  was  then  so  full  of  hope,  for  he  had  almost  realized  the  sum 
of  money  that  his  master  required  of  him. 

"  Master  will  be  down  early  in  September,"  he  said,  as  we 
strolled  along  one  evening  in  August,  "  and  I  think  by  borrow- 
ing a  little  from  Miss  Nancy,  I  shall  be  able  to  pay  down  all 
that  I  owe  him,  and  then,  dearest,  I  shall  be  free — free !  only 
think  of  it !  Of  me  being  a  free  man,  master  of  myself/  and 
when  we  go  to  the  North  we  will  be  married,  and  both  of  us 
will  live  with  Miss  Nancy,  and  guard  her  declining  days." 

Happy  tears  were  shining  in  his  bright  eyes,  like  dew-pearls ; 
but,  with  a  strong,  manly  hand  he  dashed  them  away,  and  I 
clung  the  fonder  to  that  arm,  that  I  hoped  would  soon  be  able 
to  protect  me. 

"  There  is  one  foolish  little  matter,  dearest,  that  I  will  men- 
tion, more  to  excite  your  merriment,  than  fear,"  said  Henry 
with  an  odd  smile. 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Well,  promise  me  not  to  care  about  it ;  only  let  it  give  you 
a  good  laugh/' 

"  Yes,  I  promise." 

"  Well,"  and  he  paused  for  a  moment,  "  there  is  a  girl  living 

near  the  G- House.     She  belongs  to  Mr.  Bodley,  and  has 

taken  a  foolish  fancy  to  me ;  has  actually  made  advances,  even 
more  than  advances,  actual  offers  of  love !  She  says  she  used 
to  know  you,  and,  on  one  occasion,  attempted  to  speak  discredit- 
ably of  you  ;  though  I  quickly  gave  her  to  understand  that  I 
would  not  listen  to  it.     Why  do  you  tremble  so,  Ann  ?" 

And  truly  I  trembled  so  violently,  that  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  support  that  his  arm  afforded  me,  I  should  have  fallen  to 
the  ground. 

"  What  is  her  name  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Melinda,  and  says  she  once  belonged  to  Mr.  Peterkin.' 

"  Yes,  she  did.     We  used  to  call  her  Lindy." 

I  then  told  him  what  an  evil  spirit  she  had  been  in  my  path  j 
and  ventured  to  utter  a  suspicion  that  her  work  of  harm  was 
yet  unfinished,  that  she  meant  me  further  injury. 


PLEASANT    TIMES.  377 

"  I  know  her  now,  dearest.  You  have  unmasked  her,  and, 
with  me,  she  can  have  no  possible  power." 

I  seemed  to  be  satisfied,  though  in  reality  I  was  not,  for  ap- 
prehension of  an  indefinable  something  troubled  me  sorely. 
The  next  day  Miss  Nancy  observed  my  troubled  abstraction, 
and  inquired  the  cause,  with  so  much  earnestness,  that  I  could 
not  withhold  my  confidence,  and  gave  her  a  full  account. 

"  And  you  think  she  will  do  you  an  injury  ?" 

"  I  fear  so." 

"  But  have  you  not  forestalled  that  by  telling  Henry  who  she 
is,  and  how  she  has  acted  toward  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'm,  and  have  been  assured  by  him  that  she  can  do 
me  no  harm ;  but  the  dread  remains." 

"  Oh,  you  are  in  a  weak,  nervous  state  ;  I  am  astonished  at 
Henry  for  telling  you  such  a  thing  at  this  time." 

"  He  thought,  ma'm,  that  it  would  amuse  me,  as  a  fine  joke ; 
and  so  I  supposed  I  should  have  enjoyed  it." 

She  did  all  she  could  to  divert  my  thoughts,  made  Henry 
bring  his  banjo,  and  play  for  me  of  evenings  ;  bought  pleasant 
romances  for  me  to  read  ;  ordered  a  carriage  for  a  daily  ride ; 
purchased  me  many  pretty  articles  of  apparel ;  but,  most  of  all, 
I  appreciated  her  kind  and  cheerful  talk,  in  which  she  strove  to 
beguile  me  from  everything  gloomy  or  sad. 

Once  she  sent  me  down  to  spend  the  day  with  Louise  at  the 
G House.  There  was  quite  a  crowd  at  the  hotel.  South- 
erners, who  had  come  up  to  pass  their  summer  at  the  watering- 
places  in  Kentucky,  had  stopped  here,  and,  finding  comfortable 
lodgment,  preferred  it  to  the   springs;   then  there  were  many 

others  travelling  to  the  North  and  East  via  L ,  who  were 

stopping  there.  This  increased  Henry's  duties,  so  that  I  saw 
him  but  seldom  during  the  day. .  Once  or  twice  he  came  to 
Louise's  room,  and  told  me  that  he  was  unusually  busy;  but 
that  he  had  earned  four  dollars  that  day,  from  different  persons, 
in  small  change,  and  that  he  would  be  able  to  make  his  final 
payment  the  next  month. 

All  this  was  very  encouraging,  and  I  was  in  unusually  fine 


378  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

spirits.  As  Louise  and  I  sat  talking  in  the  afternoon,  she  re- 
marked— 

"  Well,  Ann,  early  next  month  Henry  will  make  his  last  pay- 
ment ;  and  we  have  concluded  to  go  North  the  latter  part  of 
the  same  month.     When  will  Miss  Nancy  be  ready  to  go  V 

"Oh,  she  can  make  her  arrangements  to  start  at  the  same  time. 
I  will  speak  to  her  about  it  this  evening." 

And  then,  as  we  sat  planning  about  a  point  of  location,  a 
shadow  darkened  the  door.  I  looked  up — and,  after  a  long 
separation,  despite  both  natural  and  artificial  changes,  I  re- 
cognized Lindy !  I  let  my  sewing  fall  from  my  hands  and 
gazed  upon  her  with  as  much  horror  as  if  she  had  been  an  ap- 
parition !     Louise  spoke  kindly  to  her,  and  asked  her  to  walk  in. 

"  Why,  how  d'ye  do,  Ann  ?  I  hearn  you  was  livin'  in  de 
city,  and  intended  to  come  an'  see  you." 

I  stammered  out  something,  and  she  seated  herself  near  me, 
and  began  to  revive  old  recollections. 

"  They  are  not  pleasant,  Lindy,  and  I  would  rather  they 
should  be  forgotten." 

''  Laws,  I's  got  a  very  good  home  now ;  but  I  'tends  to  marry 
some  man  that  will  buy  me,  and  set  me  free  !  Now,  I's  got 
my  eye  sot  on  Henry." 

I  trembled  violently,  but  did  not  trust  myself  to  speak 
Louise,  however,  in  a  quick  tone,  replied  : 

"  He  is  engaged,  and  soon  to  be  married  to  Ann." 

"  Laws  !  I  doesn't  b'lieve  it ;  Ann  shan't  take  him  from  me." 

Though  this  was  said  playfully,  it  was  easy  for  me  to  detect, 
beneath  the  seeming  levity,  a  strong  determination,  on  her  part, 
to  do  her  very  worst.  No  wonder  that  I  trembled  before  her, 
when  I  remembered  how  powerful  an  enemy  she  had  been  in 
former  times. 

With  a  few  other  remarks  she  left,  and  Louise  observed  : 

"  That  Lindy  is  a  queer  girl.  With  all  her  ignorance  and 
ugliness,  she  excites  my  dread  when  I  am  in  her  presence — a 
dread  of  a  supposed  and  envenomed  power,  such  as  the  black 
cat  possesses." 


CHILDHOOD   OF   THE    GOOD.  319 

'*  Such  has  ever  been  the  feeling,  Louise,  that  she  has  excited 
in  me.  She  has  done  me  harm  heretofore  ;  and  do  you  know, 
I  think  she  means  me  ill  now.  I  have  uttered  this  suspicion 
to  Henry  and  Miss  Nancy,  but  they  both  laughed  it  to  scorn — 
saying  she  was  powerless  to  injure  me;  but  still  my  fear  re- 
mains, and,  when  I  think  of  her,  I  grow  sick  at  heart." 

Upon  my  return  home  that  evening  I  told  Miss  Nancy  of  the 
meeting  with  Lindy,  and  of  the  conversation,  but  she  attached 
no  importance  to  it. 

No  one  living  beneath  the  viue  and  fig-tree  of  Miss  Nancy's 
planting,  and  sharing  the  calm  blessedness  of  her  smiles,  could 
be  long  unhappy  !  Her  life,  as  well  as  words,  was  a  proof  that 
human  nature  is  not  all  depraved.  In  thinking  over  the  rare 
combination  of  virtues  that  her  character  set  forth,  I  have  mar- 
velled what  must  have  been  her  childhood.  Certainly  she  could 
never  have  possessed  the  usual  waywardness  of  children.  Her 
youth  must  have  been  an  exception  to  the  general  rule.  I  can- 
not conceive  her  with  the  pettishness  and  proneness  to  quarrel, 
which  we  naturally  expect  in  children.  I  love  to  think  of  her 
as  a  quiet  little  Miss,  discarding  the  doll  and  play-house,  turning 
quietly  away  from  the  frolicsome  kitten — seeking  the  leafy 
shade  of  the  New  England  forests — peering  with  a  curious, 
thoughtful  eye  into  the  woodland  dingle — or  straining  her  gaze 
far  up  into  the  blue  arch  of  heaven — or  questioning,  with  a 
child's  idle  speculation,  the  whence  and  the  whither  of  the  mys- 
terious wind.  'Tis  thus  I  have  pictured  her  childhood  !  She 
was  a  strange,  gifted,  unusual  woman ; — who,  then,  can  suppose 
that  her  infancy  and  youth  were  ordinary  1 

To  this  day  her  memory  is  gratefully  cherished  by  hundreds. 
Many  little  pauper  children  have  felt  the  kindness  of  her  char- 
ity ;  and  those  who  are  now  independent  remember  the  time 
when  her  bounty  rescued  them  from  want,  and  "  they  rise  up 
to  call  her  blessed!" 

Often  have  I  gone  with  her  upon  visits  and  errands  of  chanty. 
Through  many  a  dirty  alley  have  those  dainty  feet  threaded  a 
dangerous  way ;  and  up  many  a  dizzy,  dismal  flight  of  ricketty 


380        AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

steps  have  I  seen  them  ascend,  and  never  heard  a  petulant 
word,  or  saw  a  haughty  look  upon  her  face  !  She  never  went 
upon  missions  of  charity  in  a  carriage,  or,  if  she  was  too  weak 
to  walk  all  the  way,  she  discharged  the  vehicle  before  she  got 
in  sight  of  the  hovel.  "  Let  us  not  be  ostentatious,"  she  would 
say,  when  I  interposed  an  objection  to  her  taking  so  long  a 
walk.  "Besides,"  she  added,  "let  us  give  no  offence  to  these 
suffering  poor  ones.  Let  them  think  we  come  as  sisters  to  re- 
lieve them  ;  not  as  Dives,  flinging  to  Lazarus  the  crumbs  of 
our  bounty  !" 

Beautiful  Christian  soul !  baptized  with  the  fire  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  endowed  with  the  same  saintly  spirit  that  rendered 
lovely  the  life  of  her  whom  the  Saviour  called  Mother  !  thou 
art  with  the  Blessed  now  !  After  a  life  of  earnest,  godly  piety, 
thou  hast  gone  to  receive  thine  inheritance  above,  and  wear  the 
Amaranthine  Crown !  for  thou  didst  obey  the  Saviour's  sternest 
mandate — sold  thy  possessions,  and  gave  all  to  the  poor  ! 


CHAPTEE    XL. 

THE    CRISIS    OF    EXISTENCE — A    DREADFUL    PAGE    IN    LIFE. 

I  have  paused  much  before  writing  this  chapter.  I  have 
taken  up  my  pen  and  laid  it  down  an  hundred  times,  with  the 
task  unfulfilled — the  duty  unaccomplished.  A  nervous  sensa- 
tion, a  chill  of  the  heart,  have  restrained  my  pen — yet  the  record 
must  be  made. 

I  have  that  to  tell,  from  which  both  body  and  soul  shrink. 
Upon  me  a  fearful  office  has  been  laid  !  I  would  that  others, 
with  colder  blood  and  less  personal  interest,  could  make  this 
disclosure  ;  but  it  belongs  to  my  history ;  nay,  is  the  very 
nucleus  from  which  all  my  reflections  upon  the  institution  of 
slavery  have  sprung.  Reader,  did  you  ever  have  a  wound — a 
deep,  almost  a  mortal  wound — whereby  your  life  was  threat- 
ened, which,  after  years  of  nursing  and  skilful  surgical  treat- 
ment, had  healed,  and  was  then  again  rudely  torn  open  ?  This 
is  my  situation.  I  am  going  to  tear  open,  with  a  rude  hand,  a 
deep  wound,  that  time  and  kind  friends  have  not  availed 
to  cure.  But  like  little,  timid  children,  hurrying  through 
a  dark  passage,  fearing  to  look  behind  them,  I  shall  hasten 
rapidly  over  this  part  of  my  life,  never  pausing  to  comment 
upon  the  terrible  facts  I  am  recording.  "  I  have  placed  my 
hand  to  the  ploughshare,  and  will  not  turn  back." 

Let  me  recall  that  fair  and  soft  evening,  in  the  early  Sep- 
tember, when  Henry  and  I,  with  hand  clasped  in  hand,  sat  to- 
gether upon  the  little  balcony.  How  sweet-scented  was  the 
gale  that  fanned  our  brows !     The  air  was  soft  and  balmy,  and 

[381] 


382  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

the  sweet  serenity  of  the  hour  was  broken  only  by  that  ever- 
pleasant  music  of  the  gently -roaring  falls!  Fair  and  queenly 
sailed  the  uprisen  moon,  through  a  cloudless  sea  of  blue,  whilst 
a  few  faint  stars,  like  fire-flies,  seemed  flitting  round  her. 

Long  we  talked  of  the  happiness  that  awaited  us  on  the 
morrow.  Henry  had  arranged  to  meet  his  master,  Mr.  Graham, 
on  that  day,  and  make  the  final  payment. 

"  Dearest,  I  lack  but  fifty  dollars  of  the  amount,"  he  said,  as 
he  laid  his  head  confidingly  on  my  shoulder. 

"  Ten  of  which  I  can  give  you." 

"  And  the  remaining  forty  I  will  make  up,"  said  Miss  Nancy 
as  she  stepped  out  of  the  door,  and,  placing  a  pocket-book  in 
Henry's  hand,  she  added,  "  there  is  the  amount,  take  it  and  be 
happy." 

Whilst  he  was  returning  thanks,  I  went  to  get  my  contribu- 
tion. Drawing  from  my  trunk  the  identical  ten-dollar  note 
that  good  Mr.  Trueman  had  given  me,  I  hastened  to  present  it 
to  Henry,  and  make  out  the  sum  that  was  to  give  us  both  so 
much  joy. 

"  Here,  Henry,"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  rejoined  them,  "  are  ten 
dollars,  which  kind  Mr.  Trueman  gave  me." 

Miss  Nancy  sighed  deeply.  I  turned  around,  but  she  said 
with  a  smile : 

"  How  different  is  your  life  now  from  what  it  was  when  that 
money  was  given  you." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  I  answered ;  "  and,  thanks,  my  noble  benefac- 
tress, to  you  for  it." 

"  Let  me,"  she  continued,  without  noticing  my  remark,  "  see 
that  note." 

I  immediately  handed  it  to  her.  Could  I  be  mistaken?  No  ; 
she  actually  pressed  it  to  her  lips  !  But  then  she  was  such  a 
philanthropist,  and  she  loved  the  note  because  it  was  the  means 
of  bringing  us  happiness.  She  handed  it  back  to  me  with 
another  sigh. 

"  When  he  gave  it  to  me,  he  bade  me  receive  it  as  his  contri- 
bution toward  the  savings  I  was  about  to  lay  up  for  the  pur- 


PLANS  FOR  THE  FUTURE.  383 

chase  of  myself.  Now  what  joy  it  gives  me  to  hand  it  to  you, 
Henry."  He  was  weeping,  and  could  not  trust  his  voice  to 
answer. 

"  And  Ann  shall  soon  be  free.  Next  week  we  will  all  start 
for  the  North,  and  then,  my  good  friends,  your  white  days  will 
commence,"  said  Miss  Nancy. 

"  Oh,  Heaven  bless  you,  dear  saint,"  cried  Henry,  whose 
utterance  was  choked  by  tears.  Miss  Nancy  and  I  both  wept 
heartily ;  but  mine  were  happy  tears,  grateful  as  the  fragrant 
April  showers  1 

"  Why  this  is  equal  to  a  camp-meeeting,"  exclaimed  Louise, 
who  had,  unperceived  by  us,  entered  the  front-door,  passed 
through  the  hall,  and  now  joined  us  upon  the  portico. 

Upon  hearing  of  Henry's  good  fortune,  she  began  to  weep 
also. 

''Will  you  not  let  me  make  one  of  the  party  for  the  North?" 
she  inquired  of  Miss  Nancy. 

"Certainly,  we  shall  be  glad  to  have  you,  Louise  ■  but  come, 
Henry,  get  your  banjo,  and  play  us  a  pleasant  tune." 

He  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and  I  never  heard  his  voice  sound 
so  rich,  clear  and  ringing.  How  magnificent  he  looked,  with 
the  full  radiance  of  the  moonlight  streaming  over  his  face  and 
form  !  His  long  flossy  black  hair  was  thrown  gracefully  back 
from  his  broad  and  noble  brow ;  whilst  his  dark  flashing  eye 
beamed  with  unspeakable  joy,  and  the  animation  that  flooded  his 
soul  lent  a  thrill  to  his  voice,  and  a  majesty  to  his  frame,  that 
I  had  never  seen  or  heard  before.  Surely  I  was  very  proud 
and  happy  as  I  looked  on  him  then ! 

Before  we  parted,  Miss  Nancy  invited  him  and  Louise  to  join 
us  in  family  devotion.  After  reading  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  and 
a  short  but  eloquent  and  impressive  prayer,  she  besought 
Heaven  to  shed  its  most  benign  blessings  on  us  ;  and  that  our 
approaching  good  fortune  might  not  make  us  forget  Him  from 
whom  every  good  and  perfect  gift  emanated ;  and  thus  closed 
that  delightful  evening ! 

After  Henry  had  taken  an  affectionate  farewell  of  me,  and 


384  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

departed  with  Louise,  he,  to  my  surprise,  returned  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  finding  the  house  still  open,  called  me  out  upon  the 
balcony. 

'.'.  Dearest,  I  could  not.  resist  a  strange  impulse  that  urged  me 
to  come  back  and  look  upon  you  once  again.  How  beautiful 
you  are,  my  love !"  he  said  as  he  pushed  the  masses  of  hair 
away  from  my  brow,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  thereon.  He  was  so 
tardy  in  leaving,  that  I  had  to  chide  him  two  or  three  times. 

"  I  cannot  leave  you,  darling.'' 

"  But  think,"  I  replied,  "  of  the  joy  that  awaits  us  on  the 
morrow." 

At  last,  and  at  Miss  Nancy's  request,  he  left,  but  turned  every 
few  steps  to  look  back  at  the  house. 

"  How  foolish  Henry  is  to-night,"  said  Miss  Nancy,  as  she 
withdrew  her  head  from  the  open  window.  "  Success  and  love 
have  made  him  foolishly  fond  !" 

"  Quite  turned  his  brain,"  I  replied;  "  but  he  will  soon  be  calm 
again." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  will  find  that  life  is  an  earnest  work,  as  well  for 
the  freeman  as  the  bondsman." 

I  lay  for  a  long  time  on  my  bed  in  a  state  of  sleeplessness, 
and  it  was  past  midnight  when  I  fell  asleep,  and  then,  oh, 
what  a  terrible  dream  came  to  torture  me  !  I  thought  I  had 
been  stolen  off  by  a  kidnapper,  and  confined  for  safe  keeping  in 
a  charnel-house,  an  ancient  receptacle  for  the  dead,  and  there, 
with  blue  lights  burning  round  me,  I  lay  amid  the  dried  bones 
and  fleshless  forms  of  those  who  had  once  been  living  beings ; 
and  the  vile  and  loathsome  gases  almost  stifled  me.  By  that 
dim  blue  light  I  strove  to  find  some  door  or  means  of  egress 
from  the  terrible  place,  and  just  as  I  had  found  the  door  and 
was  about  to  fit  a  rusty  key  into  the  lock,  a  long,  lean  body, 
decked  out  in  shroud,  winding-sheet  and  cap,  with  hollow  cheek 
and  cadaverous  face,  and  eyes  devoid  of  all  speculation,  suddenly 
seized  me  with  its  cold,  skeleton  hand.  Slowly  the  face  as- 
sumed the  expression  of  Lindy's,  then  faded  into  that  of  Mr. 
Peterkin's.     I  attempted  to  break  from  it,  but  I  was  held  with 


EFFECTS  OF  THE  DREAM.  385 

a  vice-like  power.  "With  a  loud,  frantic  scream  I  broke  from  the 
trammels  of  sleep.  A  cold,  death-like  sweat  had  broken  out  on 
my  bod}'.  My  screaming  had  aroused  Miss  Nancy  and  Biddy. 
Both  came  rushing  into  my  room. 

After  a  few  moments  I  told  them  of  my  dream. 

"  A  bad  attack  of  incubus,"  remarked  Miss  Nancy,  "  but  she 
is  cold  ;  rub  her  well,  Biddy." 

With  a  very  good  will  the  kind-hearted  Irish  girl  obeyed  her. 
I  could  not,  however,  be  prevailed  upon  to  try  to  sleep  again : 
and  as  it  wanted  but  an  hour  of  the  dawn,  Biddy  consented  to 
remain  up  with  me.  We  dressed  ourselves,  and  sitting  down 
by  the  closed  window,  entered  into  a  very  cheerful  conversation. 
Biddy  related  many  wild  legends  of  the  "  ould  country,'"  in  which 
I  took  great  interest. 

Gradually  we  saw  the  stars  disappear,  and  the  moon  go  down, 
and  the  pale  gray  streaks  of  dawn  in  the  eastern  sky ! 

I  threw  up  the  windows,  exclaiming :  "  Oh,  Biddy,  as  the 
day  dawns,  I  begin  to  suffocate.  I  feel  just  as  I  did  in  the 
dream.  Give  me  air,  quick."  More  I  could  not  utter,  for  I  fell 
fainting  in  the  arms  of  the  faithful  girl.  She  dashed  water  in 
my  face,  chafed  my  hands  and  temples,  and  consciousness  soon 
returned. 

"  Why,  happiness  and  good  fortune  do  excite  you  strangely ; 
but  they  say  there  are  some  that  it  sarves  just  so." 

''  Oh  no,  Biddy,  I  am  not  very  well, — a  little  nervous.  I  will 
take  some  medicine." 

When  I  joined  Miss  Nancy,  she  refused  to  let  me  assist  her 
in  dressing,  saying  : 

"  No,  Ann,  you  look  ill.  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  do  any- 
thing.    Go  lie  down  and  rest." 

I  assured  her  repeatedly  that  I  was  perfectly  well ;  but  she 
only  smiled,  and  said  in  a  commendatory  tone, 

"  Good  girl,  good  girl  !" 

All  the  morning  I  was   fearfully  nervous,  starting  at   every 
little  sound  or  noise.     At  length  Miss  Nancy  became  seriously 
uneasy,  and  compelled  me  to  take  a  sedative. 
17 


386  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  I  began  to  grow  calm.  The  sedative 
had  taken  effect,  and  my  nervousness  was  allayed- 

I  took  my  sewing  in  the  afternoon,  and  seated  myself  in 
Miss  Nancy's  room.  Seeing  that  I  was  calm,  she  began  apleas- 
ant  conversation  with  me. 

"  Henry  will  be  here  to-night,  Ann,  a  free  man,  the  owner  of 
himself,  the  custodian  of  his  own  person,  and  you  must  put  on 
your  happiest  and  best  looks  to  greet  him." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Nancy,  it  seems  like  too  much  joy  for  me  to 
realize.  What  if  some  grim  phantom  dash  down  this  sparkling 
cup ;  just  as  we  are  about  to  press  it  to  our  eager  and  expect- 
ant lips  ?     Such  another  disappointment  I  could  not  endure. 

"  You  little  goosey,  you  will  mar  half  of  life's  joys  by  these 
idle  fears." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Nancy,"  put  in  Biddy.  "  Ann  is  just  so  nar- 
vous  ever  since  that  ugly  dream,  that  she  hain't  no  faith  to-day 
in  anything." 

"  Have  you  baked  a  pretty  cake,  and  got  plenty  of  nice  con- 
fections ready  to  give  Henry  a  celebration  supper,  good  Biddy  ?" 
inquired  Miss  Nancy. 

''  Ah,  yes,  everything  is  ready,  only  just  look  how  light  and 
brown  my  cake  is,"  and  she  brought  a  fine  large  cake  from  the 
pantry,  the  savory  odor  of  which  would  have  tempted  an  an- 
chorite. 

''  Then,  too,"  continued  the  provident  Biddy,  "  the  peaches  are 
unusually  soft  and  sweet.  I  have  pared  and  sugared  them, 
and  they  are  on  the  ice  now ;  oh,  we'll  have  a  rale  feast." 

"  Thanks,  thanks,  good  friends,"  I  said,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  emotion. 

"Only  just  see,"  exclaimed  Biddy,  "here  comes  Louise, 
running  as  fast  as  her  legs  will  carry  her ;  she's  come  to  be  the 
first  to  tell  you  that  Henry  is  free." 

I  rushed  with  Biddy  to  the  door,  and  Miss  Nancy  followed. 
We  were  all  eager  to  hear  the  good  news. 

"  Mercy,  Louise,  what's  the  matter  ?"  I  cried,  for  her  face 
terrified  me.    She  was  pale  as  death ;  her  eyes,  black  and  wild, 


THE    CALAMITY.  387 

seemed  starting  from  their  sockets,  and  around  her  mouth  there 
was  that  ghastly,  livid  look,  that  almost  congealed  my  blood. 

"Oh,  God!"  she  cried  in  frenzy,  "God  have  mercy  on  us 
all !"  and  reeled  against  the  wall. 

"  Speak,  woman,  speak,  in  heaven's  name,"  I  shouted  aloud. 
"  Henry  !  Henry  !   Henry  !  has  aught  happened  to  him  ?" 

''Oh,  God!"  she  said,  and  her  eyes  flamed  like  a  fury's; 
"  he  has  ctct  his  throat,  and  now  lies  weltering  in  his  own 
blood." 

I  did  not  scream,  I  did  not  speak.  I  shed  no  tears.  I  did 
not  even  close  my  eyes.  Every  sense  had  turned  to  stone  ! 
For  full  five  minutes  I  stood  looking  in  the  face  of  Louise. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak,  Ann  !  Cry,  imprecate,  do  some- 
thing, rather  than  stand  there  with  that  stony  gaze !"  said 
Louise,  as  she  caught  me  frantically  by  the  arm. 

"  Why  did  he  kill  himself?"  I  asked,  in  an  unfaltering 
tone. 

"  He  went,  in  high  spirits,  to  make  his  last  payment  to  his 
master,  who  was  at  the  hotel.  '  Here,  master,'  he  said,  '  is  all 
that  I  owe  you ;  please  make  out  the  bill  .of  sale,  or  my  free 
papers.'  Mr.  Grahan  took  the  money,  with  a  smile,  counted  it 
over  twice,  slowly  placed  it  in  his  pocket-book,  and  said, 
'  Henry,  you  are  my  slave ;  I  hired  you  to  a  good  place,  where 
you  were  well  treated ;  had  time  to  make  money  for  yourself. 
Now,  according  to  law,  you,  as  a  slave,  cannot  have  or  hold 
property.  Everything,  even  to  your  knife,  is  your  master's. 
All  of  your  earnings  come  to  me.  So,  in  point  of  law,  I  was 
entitled  to  all  the  money  that  you  have  paid  me.  Legally  it 
was  mine,  not  yours ;  so  I  did  but  receive  from  you  my  own. 
Notwithstanding  all  this  I  was  willing  to  let  you  have  yourself, 
and  intended  to  act  with  you  according  to  our  first  arrange- 
ment ;  but  upon  coming  here  the  other  day,  a  servant  girl  of  Mr. 
Bodly's,  named  Lindy,  informed  me  that  you  were  making 
preparations  to  run  off,  and  cheat  me  out  of  the  last  payment. 
She  stated  that  you  had  told  her  so  ;  and  you  intended  to  start 
one  night  this  week.     I  was  so  enraged  by  it,  that  yesterday  I 


388  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

sold  you  to  a  negro  trader ;  and  you  must  start  down  the 
river  to-morrow.'  " 

*' '  Master,  it  is  a  lie  of  the  girl's  ;  I  never  had  any  thought  of 
running  off,  or  cheating  you  out  of  your  money.'  Henry  then 
told  him  of  Lindy's  malice. 

"  '  Yes,  you  have  proved  it  was  a  lie,  by  coming  and  paying 
me  :  but  nothing  can  be  done  now;  I  have  signed  the  papers, 
and  you  are  the  property  of  Atkins.  I  have  not  the  power  to 
undo  what  I  have  done.' 

" '  But,  Master,'  pleaded  Henry,  '  can't  you  refund  the 
money  that  I  have  paid  you,  and  let  me  buy  myself  from  Mr. 
Atkins  V 

"  '  Refund  the  money,  indeed  !  Who  ever  heard  of  such  im- 
pertinence ?  Have  I  not  just  shown  that  all  that  you  made  was 
by  right  of  law  mine  ?  No  ;  go  down  the  river,  serve  your  time, 
work  well,  and  may  be  in  the  course  of  fifteen  or  twenty  years 
you  may  be  able  to  buy  yourself.' 

"'Oh,  master!'  cried  out  the  weeping  Henry,  'pity  me, 
please  save  me,  do  something.' 

'' '  I  can  do  nothing  for  you  ;  go,  get  your  trunk  ready,  here 
conies  Mr.  Atkins  for  you.' 

Henry  turned  towards  the  hard  trader,  and  with  a  face  con- 
tracted with  pain,  and  eyes  raining  tears,  begged  for  mercy. 

"  '  Go  long  you  fool  of  a  nigger !  an'  git  ready  to  go  to  the 
pen,  without  this  fuss,  or  I'll  have  you  tied  with  ropes,  and 
taken.' 

Henry  said  no  more ;  I  had  overheard  all  from  an  adjoining 
room.     I  tried  to  avoid  him  ;  but  he  sought  me  out. 

"  '  Louise,'  he  said,  in  a  tone  which  I  shall  never  forget. 

" '  I  have  heard  all,'  was  my  reply. 

"  '  Will  you  see  Ann  for  me  ?  Take  her  a  word  from  me  ? 
Tell  how  it  was,  Louise  ;  break  the  news  gently  to  her.'  Here 
he  quite  gave  up,  and,  sinking  into  a  chair,  sobbed  and  cried 
like  a  child. 

'"Bea  friend  to  her,  Louise  ;  I  know  that  she  will  need  much 
kindness  to  sustain  her.     Thank  Miss  Nancy  for  all  her  kind- 


THE    LETTER.  3S9 

ness ;  tell  her  that  I  blest  her  before  I  went.  Tell  Ann  to 
stay  with  her,  and  oh,  Louise' — here  he  wrung  his  hands  in 
agony — '  tell  Ann  not  to  grieve  for  me ;  but  she  mustn't  for- 
get me.  Poor,  wretched  outcast  that  I  am,  I  have  loved  her 
well  !     After   awhile,  when    time   has   softened   this   blow,  she 

must  try  to  love  and  be  happy  with No,  no,  I'll  not  ask 

that ;  only  bid  her  not  be  wretched  ; — but  give  me  pen  and  ink, 
I'll  write  just  one  word  to  her.' 

"I  gave  him  the  ink,  pen  and  paper,  and  he  wrote  this." 

As  Louise  drew  a  soiled,  blotted  paper  from  her  bosom,  I 
eagerly  snatched  it  and  read  : 

"  Ann,  dearest,  Louise  will  tell  you  all.  Our  dream  is  broken 
forever  !  I  am  sold, ;  but  I  shall  be  a  slave  no  more.  Forgive 
me  for  what  I  am  going  to  do.  Madness  has  driven  me  to  it ! 
I  love  you,  even  in  death  I  love  you.  Say  farewell  to  Miss 
Nancy — I  am  gone  !  " 

I  read  it  over  twice  slowly.  One  scalding  tear,  large  and 
round,  fell  upon  it !  I  know  not  where  it  came  from,  for  my 
eyes  were  dry  as  a  parched  leaf. 

The  note  dropped  from  my  hands,  almost  unnoticed  by  me. 
Biddy  picked  it  up,  and  handed  it  to  Miss  Nancy,  who  read  it 
and  fainted.  I  moved  about  mechanically  ;  assisted  in  restor- 
ing Miss  Nancy  to  consciousness;  chafed  her  hands  and  temples  ; 
and,  when  she  came  to,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  I  sooth- 
ed her  and  urged  that  she  would  not  weep  or  distress  her- 
self. 

"  I  wonder  that  the  earth  don't  open  and  swallow  them," 
cried  the  weeping  Biddy. 

"  Hush,  Biddy,  hush  !"  I  urged. 

"They  ought  to  be  hung  !  " 

"  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  and  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord,' "  I 
replied. 

"  Oh,  Ann,  you  are  crazy  !"  she  uttered. 

And  so,  in  truth,  I  was.  That  granite-like  composure  was  a 
species  of  insanity.  I  comprehended  nothing  that  was  going 
on  around  me.     I  was  in  a  sort  of  sleep-waking  state,  when  I 


390  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

asked  Louise  if  she  thought  they  would  bury  him  decently ; 
and  gave  her  a  bunch  of  flowers  to  place  in  the  coffin. 

And  so  my  worst  suspicion  was  realized  !  Through  Lindy 
came  my  heaviest  blow  of  affliction !  I  fear  that  even  now, 
after  the  lapse  of  years,  I  have  not  the  Christianity  to  ask, 
''  Father,  forgive  her,  for  she  knew  not  what  she  did  !"  Lying 
beside  me  now,  dear,  sympathetic  reader,  is  that  note — his  last 
brief  xoords.  Before  writing  this  chapter  I  read  it  over.  Old, 
soiled  and  worn  it  was,  but  by  his  trembling  fingers  those  blot- 
ted and  irregular  lines  were  penned ;  and  to  me  they  are  pre- 
cious, though  they  awaken  ten  thousand  bitter  emotions  !  I 
look  at  the  note  but  once  a  year,  and  then  on  the  fatal  anniver- 
sary, which  occurs  to-day  !  I  have  pressed  it  to  my  heart, 
and  hearsed  it  away,  not  to  be  re-opened  for  another  year.  This 
is  the  blackest  chapter  in  my  dark  life,  and  you  will  feel,  with 
me,  glad  that  it  is  about  to  close.  I  have  nerved  myself  for  the 
duty  of  recording  it,  and,  now  that  it  is  over,  I  sink  down  faint 
and  broken-hearted  beside  the  accomplished  task. 


CHAPTEE  XLI. 

A  REVELATION DEATH  THE  PEACEFUL  ANGEL — CALMNESS. 

Months  passed  by  after  the  events  told  in  the  last  chapter — 
passed,  I  scarce  know  how.  They  have  told  me  that  I  wandered 
about  like  one  in  the  mazes  of  a  troubled  dream.  My  reason 
was  disturbed.  I've  no  distinct  idea  how  the  days  or  weeks 
were  employed.  Vague  remembrances  of  kindly  words,  music, 
odorous  flowers,  and  a  trip  to  a  beautiful,  quiet  country-house, 
I  sometimes  have;  but  'tis  all  so  misty  and  dream-like,  that 
I  can  form  no  tangible  idea  of  it.  So  this  period  has  almost 
faded  out  of  mind,  and  is  like  lost  pages  from  the  chronicle 
of  life. 

When  the  winter  was  far  spent,  and  during  the  snowy  days  of 
February,  my  mind  began  to  collect  its  shattered  forces.  The 
approach  of  another  trouble  brought  back  consciousness  with  re- 
kindled vigor. 

One  day  I  became  aware  that  Miss  Nancy  was  very  ill.  It 
seemed  as  if  a  thick  vapor,  like  a  breath-stain  on  glass,  had  sud- 
denly been  wiped  away  from  my  mind;  and  I  saw  clearly. 
There  lay  Miss  Nancy  upon  her  bed,  appallingly  white,  with 
her  large  eyes  sunken  deeply  in  their  sockets,  and  her  lips  purple 
as  an  autumn  leaf.  Her  thin,  white  hand,  with  discolored  nails, 
was  thrown  upon  the  covering,  and  aroused  my  alarm.  I  rush- 
ed to  her,  fearing  that  the  vital  spark  no  longer  animated  that 
loved  and  once  lovely  frame. 

"Miss  Nancy,  dear  Miss  Nancy,"  I  cried,  "speak  to  me,  only 
one  word." 

She  started  nervously,  "  Oh,  who  are  you  ?  Ah,  Ann — is  it 
Ann  ?" 

[391] 


392  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

"  Yes,  dear  Miss  Nancy,  it  is  /.  It  appears  as  though  a  film 
had  been  removed  from  my  eyes,  and  I  see  how  selfish  I  have 
been.  You  have  suffered  for  my  attention.  What  has  been  the 
matter  with  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  dear  child,  a  fearful  dispensation  of  Providence  was 
sent  you ;  and  from  the  chastisement  you  are  about  recovering. 
Thank  God,  that  you  are  still  the  mistress  of  your  reason  !  For 
its  safety,  I  often  trembled.  I  did  all  for  you  that  I  could  ;  but 
I  was  fearful  that  human  skill  would  be  of  no  avail." 

"  Thanks,  my  kind  friend,  and  sorry  I  am  for  all  the  anxiety 
and  uneasiness  that  I  have  given  you." 

"  Oh,  I  am  repaid,  or  rather  was  pre-paid  for  all  and  more, 
you  were  so  kind  to  me." 

Here  Biddy  entered,  and  I  took  down  the  Bible  and  read  a 
few  chapters  from  the  book  of  Job. 

"What  a  comfort  that  book  is  to  us,"  said  Biddy.  "  Many's 
the  time,  Ann,  that  Miss  Nancy  read  it  to  you,  when  you'd  sit 
an'  look  so  wandering-like  ;  but  you  are  well  now,  Ann,  an'  all 
will  be  right  with  us." 

"  AH  can  never  be,  Biddy,  as  once  it  was,"  and  I  shook  my 
head. 

"  Oh,  don't  spake  of  it,"  and  she  wiped  her  moist  eyes  with 
her  apron. 

Days  and  weeks  passed  on  thus  smoothly,  during  which  time 
Louise  came  often  to  see  us ;  but  the  fatal  sorrow  was  never  al- 
luded to.     By  common  consent  all  avoided  it. 

Daily,  hourly,  Miss  Nancy's  health  sank.  I  never  saw  the 
footsteps  of  the  grim  monster  approach  more  rapidly  than  in 
her  case.  The  wasting  of  her  cheek  was  like  the  eating  of  a 
worm  at  the  heart  of  a  rose. 

Her  bed  was  wheeled  close  to  the  fire,  and  I  read,  all  the 
pleasant  mornings,  some  cheerful  book  to  her. 

Her  brother  came  often,  and  sat  with  her  through  the  even- 
ings. Many  of  her  friends  and  neighbors  offered  to  watch  with 
her  at  night ;    but  she  bade  me  decline  all  such  kindness. 

"  You  and  Biddy  are  enough.    I  want  no  others.     Let  me  die 


ROBERT    WORTH.  393 

calmly,  in  the  presence  of  my  own  household,  with  no  unusual 
faces  around,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

She  talked  about  her  death  as  though  it  were  some  long 
journey  upon  which  she  was  about  starting  ;  gave  directions 
how  she  should  be  shrouded ;  what  kind  of  coffin  we  must  get, 
tomb-stone,  &c.  She  enjoined  that  we  inscribe  nothing  but  her 
age  and  name  upon  the  tomb-stone. 

''  I  wish  no  ostentatious  slab,  no  false  eulogium  ;  my  name 
and  age  are  all  the  epitaph  I  deserve,  and  all  that  I  will  have." 

Several  ministers  came  to  see  her,  and  held  prayer.  She  re- 
ceived them  kindly,  and  spoke  at  length  with  some. 

"  I  shall  meet  the  great  change  with  resignation.  I  had 
hoped,  Ann,  to  see  you  well  settled  somewhere  in  the  North  ; 
but  that  will  be  denied  me.  In  my  will,  I  have  remembered 
both  you  and  Biddy.  I  have  no  parting  advice  for  either  of 
you ;  for  you  are  both,  though  of  different  faith,  consistent 
Christians.  I  hope  we  shall  meet  hereafter.  You  must  not 
weep,  girls,  for  it  pains  me  to  think  I  leave  you  troubled." 

When  Biddy  withdrew,  she  called  me  to  her,  saying, 

-'  Ann,  I  am  feeble,  draw  near  the  bed  whilst  I  talk  to  you. 
I  hold  here  in  my  hand  a  letter  from  my  nephew,  Robert 
Worth." 

"  Robert  Worth  t    Why  I—" 

"  Yes,  he  says  that  he  was  at  Mr.  Peterkin's  and  remembers 
you  well.  He  also  speaks  of  Emily  Bradly,  who  is  now  in 
Boston ;  says  that  she  recollects  you  well,  and  is  pleased  to  hear 
of  your  good  fortune.  Robert  is  the  son  of  my  elder  sister, 
who  is  now  deceased ;  a  favorite  he  always  was  of  mine.  He 
read  law  in  Mr.  Trueman's  office,  and  has  a  very  successful 
practice  at  the  Boston  bar.  Long  time  ago,  Ann,  when  I  was 
a  young,  blooming  girl,  my  sister  Lydia  (Robert's  mother)  and 
I  were  at  school  at  a  very  celebrated  academy  in  the  North. 
During  one  of  our  vacations,  when  we  were  on  a  visit  to  Boston 
— for  we  were  country  girls — we  were  introduced  to  two  young 
barristers,  William  Worth  and  Justinian  Trueman.  They 
were  strong  personal  friends. 
17* 


394         AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  FEMALE  SLAVE. 

"  The  former  became  much  attached  to  my  sister,  and  came 
frequently  to  see  her.  Justinian  Trueman  came  also.  By  the 
force  of  circumstance,  Mr.  Trueman  and  I  were  thrown  much 
together.  From  his  lofty  conversation  and  noble  principles,  I 
gained  great  advantage.  I  loved  to  listen  to  his  candid  avowal 
of  free,  democratic  principles.  How  bravely  he  set  aside  con- 
ventionality and  empty  forms  ;  he  was  a  searcher  after  the  soul 
of  things  !  He  was  the  very  essence  of  honor,  always  ready  to 
sacrifice  himself  for  others,  and  daily  and  hourly  crucified  his 
heart  ! 

"  Chance  threw  us  much  together,  as  I  have  said.  You  may 
infer  what  ensued.  Two  persons  so  similar  in  nature,  so  united 
in  purpose  (though  he  was  vastly  my  superior),  could  not 
associate  much  and  long  together  without  a  feeling  of  love 
springing  up  !  Our  case  did  not  differ  from  that  of  others.  We 
loved.  Not  as  the  careless  or  ordinary  love  ;  but  with  a  fervor, 
a  depth  of  passion,  and  a  concentration  of  soul,  which  nothing 
in  life  could  destroy, 

"  My  sister  was  the  chosen  bride  of  William  Worth.  This  fact 
was  known  to  all  the  household.  Justinian  and  I  read  in  each 
other's  manner  the  secret  of  the  heart. 

"At  length,  in  one  brief  hour,  he  told  me  his  story  ;  he  was  the 
only  child  of  a  widowed  mother,  who  had  spent  her  all  upon  his 
education.  Whilst  he  was  away,  her  wants  had  been  tenderly 
ministered  to  by  a  very  lovely  young  girl  of  wealth  and  social 
position.  Upon  her  death-bed  his  mother  besought  him  to 
marry  this  lady.  He  was  then  inflamed  with  gratitude,  and, 
being  free  in  heart,  he  mistook  the  nature  of  his  feelings.  Whilst 
in  this  state  of  mind,  he  offered  himself  to  her  and  was  instantly 
accepted.  Afterwards  when  we  met  he  understood  how  he  had 
been  beguiled ! 

"  He  wrote  to  his  betrothed,  told  her  the  state  of  his  feelings, 
that  he  loved  another ;  but  declared  his  willingness  to  redeem 
his  promise,  and  stand  by  his  engagement  if  she  wished. 

''  How  anxiously  we  both  awaited  her  reply  !  It  came 
promptly,  and  she  desired,  nay  demanded,  the  fulfilment  of 


OLD    MEMORIES.  395 

the  engagement ;  even  reminded  liim  of  his  promise  to  his 
mother,  and  of  the  obligation  he  was  under  to  herself. 

"  No  tongue  can  describe  the  agony  that  we  both  endured  ;  yet 
principle  must  be  obeyed.  We  parted.  They  were  married. 
Twice  afterwards  I  saw  him.  He  was  actively  engaged  in  his 
profession ;  but  the  pale  cheek  and  earnest  look  told  me  that 
he  still  thought  lovingly  of  me  !  My  sister  married  William 
Worth,  and  resided  in  Boston;  but  her  husband  died  early  in 
life,  leaving  his  only  child  Robert  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Trueman. 
After  my  mother's  death,  possessing  myself  of  my  patrimony,  I 
removed  west,  to  this  city,  where  my  brother  lived.  I  had 
been  separated  from  him  for  a  number  of  years,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  how  entirely  a  Southern  residence  had  changed 
him.  Owing  to  some  little  domestic  difficulties,  I  declined  re- 
maining in  his  family. 

*'  Last  winter,  when  Justinian  Trueman  was  here,  I  was  out 
of  the  city ;  and  it  was  well  that  I  was,  for  I  could  not  have 
met  him  again.  Old  feelings,  that  should  be  cradled  to  rest, 
would  have  been  aroused  !  My  brother  saw  him,  and  told  me 
that  he  looked  well. 

"Now,  is  it  not  strange  that  you  should  have  been  an  object 
of  such  especial  interest  to  both  of  us  ?  It  seems  as  though 
you  were  a  centre  around  which  we  were  once  more  re-united. 
I  have  written  him  a  long  letter,  which  I  wish  you  to  deliver 
upon  your  arrival  in  Boston."  Here  she  drew  from  the  port- 
folio that  was  lying  on  the  bed  beside  her,  a  sealed  letter, 
directed  to  Justinian  Trueman,  Boston,  Mass. 

I  was  weeping  violently  when  I  took  it  from  her. 

She  lingered  thus  for  several  weeks,  and  on  a  calm  Sabbath 
morning,  as  I  was  reading  to  her  from  the  Bible,  she  said  to 
me — 

"Ann,  I  am  sleepy  ;  my  eyelids  are  closing;  turn  me  over." 

As  I  attempted  to  do  it  she  pressed  my  hand  tightly,  straight- 
ened her  body  out,  and  the  last  struggle  was  over  !  I  was  alone 
with  her.  Laying  her  gently  upon  the  pillow,  I  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life  pressed  my  lips  to  that  cold,  marble  brow.     I 


396  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OP    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

felt  that  she,  holy  saint,  would  not  object  to  it,  were  she  able  to 
speak.  I  then  called  Biddy  in  to  assist  me.  She  was  loud  in 
her  lamentation. 

"  She  bade  us  not  weep  for  her,  Biddy.  She  is  happier 
now;"  but,  though  I  spoke  this  in  a  composed  tone,  my  heart 
was  all  astir  with  emotion. 

Soon  her  brother  came  in,  bringing  with  him  a  minister.  He 
received  the  mournful  intelligence  with  subdued  grief. 

We  robed  her  for  Death's  bridal,  e'en  as  she  had  requested, 
in  white  silk,  flannel,  and  white  gloves.  Her  coffin  was  plain 
mahogony,  with  a  plate  upon  the  top,  upon  which  were  en- 
graved her  name,  age,  and  birth-place. 

A  funeral  sermon  was  preached,  by  a  minister  who  had  been 
a  strong  personal  friend.  In  a  retired  portion  of  the  public 
burial-ground  we  made  her  last  bed.  A  simple  tombstone,  as 
she  directed,  was  placed  over  the  grave,  her  name,  age,  &c, 
inscribed  thereon. 

Bridget  and  I  slept  in  the  same  house  that  night.  We  could 
not  be  persuaded  to  leave  it,  and  there,  in  Miss  Nancy's  dear, 
familiar  room,  we  held,  as  usual,  family  devotion.  I  almost 
fancied  that  she  stood  in  the  midst,  and  was  gazing  well- 
pleased  upon  us. 

That  night  I  slept  profoundly.  My  rest  had  been  broken  a 
great  deal,  and  now  the  knowledge  that  duty  did  not  keep  me 
awake,  enabled  me  to  sleep  well. 

On  the  next  day  Mr.  Worth  arrived,  and  was  much  dis- 
tressed to  find  that  he  was  too  late  to  see  his  aunt  alive. 

Though  he  looked  older  and  more  serious  than  when  I  last 
saw  him,  I  readily  recognized  the  same  noble  expression  of 
face.  He  received  me  very  kindly,  and  thanked  Biddy  and  me 
for  our  attentions  to  his  beloved  aunt.  He  showed  us  a  letter 
she  had  written,  in  which  she  spoke  of  us  in  the  kindest  man- 
ner, and  recommended  us  to  his  care. 

"Neither  of  you  shall  ever  lack  for  friendship  whilst  I  live/' 
he  said,  as  he  warmly  shook  us  by  the  hands. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  ever  retained  a  vivid  recollection  of 


THE    BEQUESTS.  397 

my  sad  face  ;  and  inquired  about  "  young  Master."  When  I 
told  him  that  he  was  dead,  and  gave  an  account  of  his  life  and 
sufferings,  Mr.  Worth  remarked — 

"  Ah,  yes,  he  was  one  of  heaven's  angels,  lent  us  only  for  a 
short  season." 

I  accompanied  him  to  his  aunt's  grave. 

#  *  #  #  #  # 

Upon  the  reading  of  the  will,  it  was  discovered  that  Miss 
Nancy  had  liberated  me,  and  left  me,  as  a  legacy,  four  thousand 
dollars,  with  the  request  that  I  would  live  somewhere  in  the 
North.  To  Biddy  she  had  left  a  bequest  of  three  thousand 
dollars;  the  remainder  of  her  fortune,  after  making  a  donation 
to  her  brother,  was  left  to  her  nephew,  Robert  Worth. 

The  will  was  instantly  carried  into  effect ;  as  it  met  with  no 
opposition,  and  she  owed  no  debts,  matters  were  arranged  satis- 
factorily ;  and  we  prepared  for  departure. 

Louise  had  made  all  her  arrangements  to  go  with  us.  I  was 
now  a  free  woman,  in  the  possession  of  a  comparative  fortune ; 
yet  I  was  not  happy.  Alas !  I  had  out-lived  all  for  which 
money  and  freedom  were  valuable,  and  I  cared  not  how  the 
remainder  of  my  days  were  spent.  Why  cannot  the  means  of 
happiness  come  to  us  when  we  have  the  capacity  for  enjoy- 
ment ? 

On  the  evening  before  our  departure,  I  called  Louise  to  me 
and  asked, 

"Where  is  Henry's  grave?"  It  was  the  first  time  since 
that  fatal  day  that  I  had  mentioned  his  name  to  her. 

"  He  is  buried  far  away,  in  a  plain,  unmarked  grave ;  but, 
even  if  it  were  near,  you  should  not  go,"  she  replied. 

"  Tell  me,  who  found  him,  after — after — after  the  murder  V 

''  Mr.  Graham  and  Atkins  went  in  search  of  him,  and  I  fol- 
lowed them ;  though  he  had  told  me  what  he  was  going  to  do, 
Ann,  I  could  not  oppose  or  even  dissuade  him." 

I  wept  freely ;  and,  as  is  always  the  case,  was  relieved  by  it. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  can  weep.  It  will  do  you  good," 
said  Louise. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

CONCLUSION. 

But  little  more  remains  to  be  told  of  my  history. 

When  Louise,  Biddy  and  I,  under  the  protection  of  Mr. 
Worth,  sailed  on  a  pleasant  steamer  from  the  land  of  slavery, 
I  could  but  thank  my  God  that  I  was  leaving  forever  the 
State,  beneath  the  sanction  of  whose  laws  the  vilest  outrages 
and  grossest  inhumanities  were  committed  1 

Our  trip  would,  indeed,  have  been  delightful,  but  that  I  was 
constantly  contrasting  it  in  my  own  mind  with  what  it  might 
have  been,  had  he  not  fallen  a  victim  to  the  white  man's 
cupidity. 

Often  I  stole  away  from  the  company,  and,  in  the  privacy  of 
my  own  room,  gave  vent  to  my  pent-up  grief.  Biddy  and 
Louise  were  in  ecstacies  with  everything  that  they  saw. 

All  along  the  route,  after  passing  out  of  the  Slave  States,  we 
met  with  kind  friends  and  genuine  hospitality.  The  Northern 
people  are  noble,  generous,  and  philanthropic  ;  and  it  affords 
me  pleasure  to  record  here  a  tribute  to  their  worth  and  kind- 
ness. 

In  New  York  we  met  with  the  best  of  friends.  Everywhere 
I  saw  smiling,  black  faces  ;  a  sight  rarely  beheld  in  the  cities 
and  villages  of  the  South.  I  saw  men  and  women  of  the  despised 
race,  who  walked  with  erect  heads  and  respectable  carriage, 
as  though  they  realized  that  they  were  men  and  women,  not 
mere  chattels. 

When  we  reached  Boston  I  was  made  to  feel  this  in  a  par. 
ticular  manner.  There  I  met  full-blooded  Africans,  finely  edu- 
cated, in  the  possession  of  princely  talents,  occupying  good 
positions,  wielding  a  powerful  political  influence,  and  illustrat- 

[398] 


A    SAFE    DELIVERANCE.  399 

ing,  in  their  lives,  the  oft-disputed  fact,  that  the  African  intel- 
lect is  equal  to  the  Caucasian.  Soon  after  my  arrival  in  Boston 
I  found  out,  from  Mr.  Worth,  the  residence  of  Mr.  Trueman, 
and  called  to  see  him. 

I  was  politely  ushered  by  an  Irish  waiter  into  the  study, 
where  I  found  Mr.  Trueman  engaged  with  a  book.  At  first  he 
did  not  recognize  me  ;  but  I  soon  made  myself  known,  and 
received  from  him  a  most  hearty  welcome. 

I  related  all  the  incidents  in  my  life  that  had  occurred  since 
I  had  seen  him  last.  He  entered  fully  into  my  feelings,  and  I 
saw  the  tear  glisten  in  his  calm  eyes  when  I  spoke  of  poor 
Henry's  awful  fate. 

I  told  him  of  Miss  Nancy's  kindness,  and  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  cheeks.  I  did  not  speak  of  what  she  had  told  me  in 
relation  to  their  engagement ;  I  merely  stated  that  she  had 
referred  to  him  as  a  particular  personal  faend,  and  when  I  gave 
him  the  letter  he  received  it  with  a  tremulous  hand,  uttered  a 
fearful  groan,  and  buried  his  face  among  the  papers  that  lay 
scattered  over  his  table.  Without  a  spoken  good-bye,  I  with- 
drew. 

I  saw  him  often  after  this  ;  and  from  him  received  the  most 
signal  acts  of  kindness.  He  thanked  me  many  times  for  what 
he  termed  my  fidelity  to  his  sainted  friend.  He  never  spoke 
of  her  without  a  quiver  of  the  lip,  and  I  honored  him  for  his 
constancy. 

He  strongly  urged  me  to  take  up  my  residence  in  Boston ; 
but  I  remembered  that  Henry's  preference  had  always  been  for  a 
New  England  village  ;  and  I  loved  to  think  that  I  was  follow- 
ing out  his  views,  and  so  I  removed  to  a  quiet  puritanical  little 
town  in  Massachusetts. 

And  here  I  now  am  engaged  in  teaching  a  small  school  of 
African  children ;  happy  in  the  discharge  of  so  sacred  a  duty. 
'Tis  surprising  to  see  how  rapidly  they  learn.  I  am  interested, 
and  so  are  they,  in  the  work :  and  thus  what  with  some  teach- 
ers is  an  irksome  task,  is  to  me  a  pleasing  duty. 

I   should  state  for  the  benefit  of  the  curious,  that  Biddy  is 


400  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A    FEMALE    SLAVE. 

living  in  Boston,  happily  married  to  "  a  countryman,"  and  is 
the  proud  mother  of  several  blooming  children.  She  comes  to 
visit  me  sometimes,  during  the  heat  of  summer,  and  is  always 
a  welcome  guest. 

Louise,  too,  has  consented  to  wear  matrimony's  easy  yoke. 
She  lives  in  the  same  village  with  me.  Our  social  and  friendly 
relations  still  continue.  I  have  frequently,  when  visiting  Bos- 
ton, met  Miss  Bradly.  She,  like  me,  has  never  married.  She 
has  grown  to  be  a  firmer  and  more  earnest  woman  than  she 
was  in  Kentucky.  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  the  fact,  that 
when  travelling  through  Canada,  I  by  the  rarest  chance  met 
Ben — Amy's  treasure — now  grown  to  be  a  fine-looking  youth. 

He  had  a  melancholy  story — a  life,  like  every  other  slave's, 
full  of  trouble — but  at  length,  by  the  sharpest  ingenuity,  he 
had  made  his  escape,  and  reached,  after  many  difficulties,  the 
golden  shores  of  Canada  ! 

Now  my  history  has  been  given — a  round,  unvarnished  tale 
it  is  ;  and  thus,  without  ornament,  I  send  it  forth  to  the  world, 
I  have  spoken  freely ;  at  times,  I  grant,  with  a  touch  of  bitter- 
ness, but  never  without  truth ;  and  I  ask  the  wise,  the  consid- 
erate, the  earnest,  if  I  have  not  had  cause  for  bitterness.  Who 
can  carp  at  me  1  That  there  are  some  fiery  Southerners  who  will 
assail  me,  I  doubt  not;  but  I  feel  satisfied  that  I  have  discharged 
a  duty  that  I  solemnly  owed  to  my  oppressed  and  down-trodden 
nation.  I  am  calm  and  self-possessed  :  I  have  passed  firmly 
through  the  severest  ordeal  of  persecution,  and  have  been  spared 
the  death  that  has  befallen  many  others.  Surely  I  was  saved 
for  some  wise  purpose,  and  I  fear  nought  from  those  who  are 
fanatically  wedded  to  wrong  and  inhumanity.  Let  them  assail 
me  as  they  will,  I  shall  still  feel  that 

"Thrice  is  he  armed  who  has  his  quarrel  just, 
And  he  but  naked,  though  wrapped  up  in  steel, 
Whose  bosom  with  injustice  is  polluted." 

But  there  are  others,  some  even  in  slave  States,  kind,  noble, 
thoughtful  persons,  earnest   seekers  after  the  highest  good  in 


THE    APPEAL.  401 

life  and  nature  ;  to  them  I  consign  my  little  book,  sincerely 
begging,  that  through  my  weak  appeal,  my  poor  suffering 
brothers  and  sisters,  who  yet  wear  the  galling  yoke  of  Ameri- 
can slavery,  may  be  granted  a  hearing. 

From  the  distant  rice-fields  and  sugar  plantations  of  the  fervid 
South,  comes  a  frantic  wail  from  the  wronged,  injured,  and  oh, 
how  innocent  African  !  Hear  it ;  hear  that  cry,  Christians  of 
the  North,  let  it  ring  in  your  ears  with  its  fearful  agony ! 
Hearken  to  it,  ye  who  feast  upon  the  products  of  African  labor  ! 
Let  it  stay  you  in  the  use  of  those  commodities  for  which  their 
life-blood,  aye  more,  their  soul's  life,  is  drained  out  drop  by 
drop  !  Talk  no  more,  ye  faint-hearted  politicians,  of  "  expe- 
diency." God  will  not  hear  your"  lame  excuse  in  that  grand 
and  awful  day,  when  He  shall  come  in  pomp  and  power  to 
judge  the  quick  and  dead. 

And  so,  my  history,  go  forth  and  do  thy  mission  !  knock  at 
the  doors  of  the  lordly  and  wealthy ;  there,  by  the  shaded  light 
of  rosy  lamps,  tell  your  story.  Creep  in  at  the  broken  crevice 
of  the  poor  man's  cabin,  and  there  make  your  complaint.  Into 
the  ear  of  the  brave,  energetic  mechanic,  sound  the  burden  of 
your  grief.  To  the  strong-hearted  blacksmith,  sweating  over  his 
furnace,  make  yourself  heard ;  and  ask  them,  one  and  all,  shall 
this  unjust  institution  of  slavery  be  perpetuated  ?  Shall  it  dare 
to  desecrate,  with  its  vile  presence,  the  new  territories  that  are 
now  emphatically  free  1  Shall  Nebraska  and  Kansas  join  in  a 
blood-spilling  coalition  with  the  South  1 

Answer  proudly,  loudly,  brave  men  ;  and  answer,  No,  No  / 
My  work  is  done. 


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Charles  Gayarre.     2  vols.,  8vo,  cloth.    Price  $3  50. 

The  Life  of  P.  T.  Barnum,  written  by  himself;  in  which 
he  narrates  his  early  history  as  Clerk,  Merchant,  and  Editor,  and  his  later 
career  as  a  Showman.  With  a  Portrait  on  steel,  and  numerous  Illustra- 
tions by  Darley.     1  vol.,  12mo.     Price  $1  25. 

A   Memorial   of    Horatio   Greenough,    consisting   of  a 

Memoir,  Selections  from  his  Writings,  and  Tributes  to  his  Genius,  by 
Henry  T.  Tuckerman,  Author  of  "  Sicily,  a  Pilgrimage,"  "  A  Month 
in  England,"  &c,  &c.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  75  cents. 

Minnesota  and  its  Resources ;    to  which  are  appended 

Camp-Fire  Sketches,  or  Notes  of  a  Trip  from  St.  Paul  to  Pembina  and 
Selkirk  Settlements  on  the  Red  River  of  the  North.  By  J.  Wesley  Bond. 
With  a  New  Map  of  the  Territory,  a  View  of  St.  Paul,  and  one  of  the 
Falls  of  St.  Anthony.     I  vol.,  12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  00. 

The  Private  Life  of  an  Easte  n  King.     By  a  Member  of 

the  Household  of  his  Late  Majesty,  ..\russir-u-deen,  King  of  Oude.  12mo, 
cloth.     Price  75  cents. 

Doran's  Queens  of  Englpnd.     The  Queens  of  England, 

of  th3  House  of  Hanover.  B'  Dr.  Doran,  Author  of  "Txble  Traits," 
"Haiits  and  Men,"  &c.     2  vols.,  12mo,  cloth.    Price  $2  00 


UEDFI ELD'S    PUBLICATIONS, — BELLES-LETTRES. 


BELLES-LETTRES. 

Revolutionary  Tales,  by  Wm.  Gilmore  Simms,  Esq.    New  and  B» 
vised  Editions,  with  Illustrations  by  Darley. 

The  Partisan  ;    A  Romance  of  the  Revolution.     12mo, 

cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

Mellichampe ;   A  Legend  of  the  Santee.     12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

Katharine  "Walton  ;  or,  The  Rebel  of  Dorchester.     12mo, 

cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

The    Scout ;    or,  The   Black   Riders   of    the   Congaree. 

12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

Woodcraft ;  or,  The  Hawks  about  the  Dovecote.    12rno, 

cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Forayers ;  or,  The  Raid  of  the  Dog-Days.     A  ISTew 

Revolutionary  Romance.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

Entaw.     A  New  Revolutionary  Romance.     12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

Simms's  Border  Romances  of  the  South,  New  and  Revised  Editions, 

with  Illustrations  by  Darley.     Uniform  with  Simms's  Revolutionari 
Tales. 

I.  Guy   Rivers.      A   Tale   of    Georgia.      12mo,    cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

II.  Richard  Hurdis.     A  Tale  of  Alabama.     12mo,  cloth. 
Price  $1  25. 

III.  Border  Beagles.    A  Tale  of  Mississippi.    12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

IY.  Charlemont.      A  Tale  of  Kentucky.     12mo,  cloth. 

Price  $1  25. 

V".  Beauchampe ;    or,  The  Kentucky  Tragedy.      12mo, 

cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

VI.    Confession;    or,  The   Blind   Heart.      12mo,  cloth. 

Trice  $1  25. 

The  Yemassee ;    A  Romance  of   South    Carolina.     By 
Wm.  Gilmore  Simms,  Esq.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

South waid,  Ho  !    a  Spell   of  Sunshine.      By  Wm.  Gil- 
more Simms,  Esq.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 


8  SBDPIELD  S    PUBLICATIONS. —  BELLES-LETTRES. 

The  Noctes  Ambrosianse.  By  Professor  Wilson,  J.  G-. 
Lockhart,  James  Hogg,  and  Dr.  Maginn.  Edited,  with  Memoirs  and 
Notef,  oy  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie.     In  5  volumes.     Price  $5  00. 

The  Odoherty  Papers;  forming  the  first  portion  of  the 

Miscellaneous  Writings  of  the  late  Dr.  Maginn.  With  an  Original 
Memoir,  and  copious  Notes,  by  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie.  2  vols. 
Price  $2  00. 

The    Shakespeare    Papers,  and   the    Homeric    Ballads; 

forming  Vol.  III.  of  the  Miscellaneous  Writings  of  the  late  Dr.  Maginn. 
Edited  by  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie.      [In  Press.] 

Bits    of    Blarney.      By   Dr.    R.    Shelton    Mackenzie, 

Editor  of  "Shell's  Sketches  of  the  Irish  Bar,"  "Noctes  Ambrosianse," 
&c.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  00. 

Table  Traits.     By  Dr.  Dokan,  Author  of  "  Habits  and 

Men,"  &c.     12mo,  cloth.     $1  25. 

Habits  and   Men.     By  Dr.  Doean,  Author  of  "Table 

Traits,"  "  The  Queens  of  England  under  the  House  of  Hanover."  12mo, 
Price  $1  00. 

Calavar;  The  Knight  of  the  Conquest.     A  Romance  of 

Mexico.  By  the  late  Dr.  Robert  Montgomery  Bird,  Author  of 
"  Nick  of  the  Woods  ;"  with  Illustrations  by  Darlev.     12mo,  cloth     Price 

$1  25. 

Nick  of  the  "Woods,  or  the  Jibbenainosay.     A  Tale  of 

Kentucky.  By  the  late  Dr.  Robert  Montgomery  Bird,  Author  of 
"  Calavar,"  "  The  Infidel,"  &c.  New  and  Revised  Edition,  with  Illustra- 
tions by  Darley.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

The  Pretty  Plate  ;  A  New  and  Beautiful  Juvenile.     By 

John  Vincent.  Illustrated  by  Darley.  1  vol.,  16mo,  cloth,  gilt.  Price 
50  cents;  extra  gilt  edges,  75  cents. 

Vasconselos.      A   Romance   of    the    New   World.     By 

Frank  CoorER.     12mo,  cloth.     Price  $1  25. 

A  Stray  Yankee  in  Texas.  By  Philip  Paxton.  With 
Hlustrations  by  Darley.     Second  Edition.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  25. 

The  Wonderful  Adventures  of  Capt.  Priest.  By  Philii- 
Paxton.    With  Illustrations  by  Darley.     12mo,  cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

Western  Characters ;  being  Types  of  Border  Life  in  the 
Western  States.  By  J.  L.  M'Connel,  Author  of  "  Talbot  and  Vernon," 
"  The  Glenns,"  &c,  &c  With  Six  Illustrations  by  Darley.  12mo,  cloth. 
Price  $1  25. 

The  Master-Builder ;  or,  Life  at  a  Trade.  By  Day  Kel- 
logg Lee.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Price  $1  00. 

Merrimack  ;  or,  Life  at  the  Loom.  By  Day  Kellogg 
Lbe.     1  vol.,  12mo.     Price  $1  00 


0  '-> 

-2  - 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

PS1145 

.B35 
A2 

1857 


